The Heart's Code
by Dia1
Summary: formerly The Meeting FIRST PLACE AWARD WINNER - 1 in the trilogy with Acid, The Muscovites-A brutal, decades old murder is solved when aliens implant the heart of the victim in Chekov. STORY COMPLETE IN ONE CHAPTER.


1845 hrs: Harb Tanzer inspected Rec Room 2 with satisfaction. Everything was in place. Everything looked to be up to the specifications of this evenings very particular host. The tables were set with powder blue linens and centre pieces and there were blue vases for the cala lilies grown secretly for the festivities by the folks in hort.   
  
The place resembled a jungle, filled as it was with plant life from Yeoman Martha Landon's native Hawaii - a huge potted palm dominated the centre of the room - facilitated with some intraship beaming help from Commander Scott.   
  
No such help was needed for the lais at every place setting. But, Tanzer's hands still bore blisters from the marathon he and the chief party organizer had put in the day before stringing the flower necklaces.  
  
Harb smiled and shook his head as he adjusted one centre piece. There had been so much thought put into this birthday party but Tanzer knew that Martha Landon had a surprise waiting for her that would surpass even the minute planning that had gone into the food (French Sweet Carrot Soup, Traditional Russian salad, broiled Rosemary Chicken, Krataen grilled green and red peppers and that very special cake for dessert).  
  
The rest of the revelers were in for a shock themselves. They were bound to be as stunned as he himself had been. Tanzer's grin widened. That kid really has guts. And then a word came into his mind. Heart. And he knew that was really the word he was looking for.   
  
He turned at the whoosh of the door opening. Pavel Chekov studied the room and then favoured Tanzer with his brightest smile. HEART.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
2130 hrs: Harb sat back, relaxing with his coffee as he surveyed a job well done. It was a grand party and the best was yet to come.  
  
"This must be the best part of your job, Harb." Captain Kirk smiled at his Morale Officer.  
  
Tanzar raised his coffee cup, "I won't trade with you, Captain!"  
  
"Damn!" Kirk laughed as McCoy strolled over carrying a piece of birthday cake in his hand and on his chin. Kirk grinned at him and pointed at his chin.  
  
"Oh, hell." McCoy swiped at the errant chocolate and then licked it off his finger. "Harb, what kind of cake is this...it's not just chocolate."  
  
"No, it's...you know, I forgot what it's called, it's chocolate and something else uhm...oh, brother, my brain has gone off duty."  
  
"Well, whatever it is, good choice." McCoy stuffed more of the confection into his mouth, raised his eyebrows and pointed at his chin. Kirk gave him the thumbs up.  
  
"It wasn't my choice. This whole thing, down to the cutlery belongs to Ensign Chekov. You know, I've catered weddings that were fussed over less!" Harb chuckled.  
  
Laughter rippled through the group as Spock approached. McCoy hoisted his cake, "Did you try this, Spock?"  
  
The Science Officer stopped and assumed his characteristic hands-clasped behind-his-back stance before answering McCoy, "Why, yes doctor I have. It is my mother's recipe. Ensign Chekov borrowed it from me."  
  
McCoy's jaw only dropped a little before he replied, "Over the back fence no doubt."  
  
Spock's only reply was a slight head tilt as way of a goodbye before he slowly walked away. "He does that on purpose." McCoy scowled good naturally.  
  
"That's right!" Harb slapped his forehead, "The cake, it's...it has a Vulcan name, but it's like a Vulcan/American name like Sarek's Upside Down Cake or something. I wish I could remember it."  
  
Kirk glanced over at the table occupied by the guest of honour, the host, Lieutenants Sulu and Uhura, Commander Scott, Yeoman Jocelyn Chouinard and Ensign Paxson. "He went to a lot of trouble."  
  
"You don't know the half of it." Harb stated, shaking his head.  
  
"Well, he sure got a reaction out of her. I was thinking I might end up repairing some perforated ear drums tonight." McCoy laughed.  
  
Landon had been truly shocked - the wordless shriek that exploded out of her was exactly what Chekov had hoped for. But then, how could she not be shocked.   
  
After all, her birthday was still four days away. And this day had been 'one of those days' - a stupid day - a day where she couldn't get anything together, get anything right. And then to walk into the rec room and find seventy-five friends in a room that looked like home, in a room that smelled like home and her favorite colours everywhere and him...   
Harb watched her laughing at something Chekov said. She lowered her blue eyes, ducked her head and pushed her shoulder into his - chiding him gently for whatever outrage had just come out of his mouth. Not that she'd ever want him to stop saying terrible things.   
  
She sometimes thought it was like a mirror scale - human emotions - and that the line where two mirrors met was a place of level and monotone life and then a little above the line was happy and a little below the line was sad and a little higher than happiness was joy and a little farther below sadness was despair and so on. And she believed that to have the capacity to hit the high highs of euphoria, that you had to have the capacity for it's mirror opposite...dark, dark depression. Somebody had said once that you need darkness to see the stars. And, scientifically, the Opponent Process Theory supported what she knew to be true.  
  
Human psychology had a built in system of checks and balances that assured that no matter how far down you went, you would also, eventually, get the high euphoria that was it's mirror opposite.   
  
She was such a person. And so was he. He could be incredibly dark, there was that raw pain inside him that sometimes threatened to cripple him....but there was an incandescent flare of joy in him as well. In public he was somewhat reserved and, in spite of his verbal irreverence, especially on board the ship he checked himself. Or at least, appeared to check himself. But in private he could be completely...goofy. Landon had been surprised at that more than anything, she thought. And most grateful.  
  
Tanzer watched as Chekov whispered something to her and stood. It was time.  
  
"Well, that's time for me." Kirk said at that moment and put his glass down.  
  
"No, Captain. You can't leave now. Just a few more minutes. If you leave now, you'll regret it." Tanzer stood, "Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life."  
  
He left McCoy and Kirk to ponder his strange choice of words and followed Chekov to the screened off area right of the coffee service. And there he met the pale ghost of Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov.  
  
"Hey, you okay?" Tanzar put an arm out to steady Pavel. He looked ready to fall over.  
  
"I swear Harb. I will never - never - do anything like this again!"  
  
"You'll be fine! You're great. Honest."  
  
He took a shuddering breath, "Bozhe moi!" he held out his trembling hand. "Look at this! I am going to have stroke!"  
  
"Sshh!! Where are the others?"  
  
"Oh, God, they forgot...okay, well, it doesn't matter because she doesn't know, nobody knows so I could just forget it and nobody would know, nobody would know, da, da, that is what I will do.....ah, shit..." he broke off as his partners in crime arrived.  
  
Ensign Jack Carr laughed as he opened his guitar case, "Boy, don't let anybody from medical see you - they'd start transfusing you right now!"  
  
Lt. Nalini Singh grinned and kissed him on the cheek, "His face is awful hot for something that doesn't appear to have any blood left in it."  
  
"You are trying to kill me, aren't you? Both of you."  
  
"Aw, come on, Pavel, you won't die...you might want to...but you won't. Honest."  
  
"That's very bloody helpful, Jack!" Singh frowned at the guitarist. "Pavel, don't listen to him. Listen to me. You can do this. You have done this. And you're wonderful. She's going to just...well, if somebody like you did something like this for me...I would just die." She kissed him again and squeezed his hand. "Let's go." She pulled him toward the edge of the screen and then let go of him as she and Jack walked around the screen and the lights in the rec room lowered, leaving the synth and microphones bathed in light.  
  
Landon looked around and said to Uhura, "Oh, damn it, where is Pav?"  
  
Uhura shrugged, looked to Sulu who mimicked her and received a good natured scowl in return. "Well, go look for him."  
  
"Try the head, he was lookin' a wee bit white." Scotty added helpfully.  
  
Sulu started to get up from the table just as Nalini, seated in front of the synth said into her mic. "Freeze right there, Mr. Sulu. No one leaves this room for the next three minutes. This is special and it's especially for you, Martha, happy birthday."  
  
She began to play, Martha let out a little squeak and clapped her hands, "Corey Hart! It's my favorite Corey Hart so...oh, my God."  
  
Her jaw dropped as Pavel Chekov stepped out from behind the screen and began to sing - that was the first shock. The second came when his voice came out of his mouth. He could sing. He could really sing. Not only that, he actually had stage presence, like he had been born to it.  
  
He was singing to a room full of open mouths but his brown eyes were locked on Martha's blue ones as though his life depended on it and at that moment he seriously could have been convinced that it did. He thought his heart would explode for the first few words but then he just fell into those blue, blue crystal eyes of hers like he always did and no one else was there. Just her. Just that face, and the words and music she loved that he sang for her.  
  
  
tell me that you'll always stand by me forever  
you're the hidden treasure destiny has found  
tell me that you'll always chase away the demons  
you're the only reason that I am still around  
  
through this tunnel of love  
I've been trying to see my way to the horizons  
when the night is long, your sweet voice  
carries me to the skies  
  
tell me that you'll always hold my hand forever  
never to surrender, the dream we're fighting for  
tell me that you'll always be my superstition  
you're the one condition that i've been waiting for  
  
everybody wants to believe in love everlasting  
we're all hoping to find what I see in your eyes  
  
tell that you'll always write me secret letters  
sleep under the moonlight, dance under the stars  
tell me that you're gonna kiss me in the morning  
peaceful easy feeling, together we are one  
tell me that we're gonna brave the storms together  
there is nothing better than love under the sun  
  
As he finished, tears were spilling down her face - no one else in the room knew what this had cost him, with the exception of McCoy.   
  
The room went dead quiet when the music stopped and then simply exploded.   
Landon jumped up and flung herself into Chekov's arms as they were surrounded by friends, clapping him on the back, tousling his hair (damn Scotty!).   
  
Martha whispered in Pavel's ear, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She kissed him passionately to the whoops of delight from those gathered.  
  
"My, God, he's fabulous!" Lieutenant Sandra Albanis exclaimed, applauding wildly beside McCoy and Kirk, "He sounds just like Andre! I love Andre! He sounds just like him!"  
  
"God, don't tell him that!" McCoy retorted vehemently and then said in a conspiratorial whisper, "He hates that guy's singing...the Russian singer, Taiga right? That's the guy? Andre, right?"  
  
"Ya." Albanis said, a little bewildered.  
  
"Right. Hates him."  
  
"Oh, wow, I love Taiga, it makes me cry everytime but...wow, ok." She shrugged and went to join the crowd around Chekov and Landon.  
  
Kirk looked a question at McCoy, to which the physician merely shrugged and moved toward Landon and Chekov. Kirk followed.  
  
McCoy stuck out his hand, "Good job, son." Chekov took his hand, "You okay?"  
  
Chekov smiled and nodded as Landon pulled back, touched his face, "Oh my god...you're white as a ghost...oh, my sweetie, what you did for me..." she hugged him again, catching McCoy's eye for a moment. The doctor smiled at her and raised his glass in a toast before turning away and ambling toward the door.  
  
Pavel whispered, "I'd do anything for you." and then, "But right now, I have to sit down." he said shakily.   
  
He made a move to the table when Kirk stepped in front of him and clasped his shoulder, "I'm glad I stayed for that. Happy Birthday, Yeoman." He smiled and touched her arm, "See you in the morning, Pavel."  
  
"Yes, Captain." Chekov smiled at Kirk and tried to remember if he'd ever called him by his first name before. He was still trying to think whether this was the first time for that informality as Landon led him back to their table.  
  
Uhura stood and gave him a hug, "My God, honey, what have you been hiding from us!"  
  
As Pavel sat down at the table, Sulu clapped him on the shoulder, "I can't believe it. Why didn't you ever sing before, you wouldn't even sing in the choir for Christmas or, anything or....why..."  
  
"I need a drink." Sulu jumped up to get it for him.  
  
"You really are pale." Martha touched his face again. "Are you alright?"  
"I really need a drink. I guess I have a...phobia or something...oh, Bozhe Moi!" he threw back the shot of vodka Sulu put down in front of him.  
  
Uhura laughed, "It's okay, honey, it's all over now, and you were great, you can relax now! Well, at least until next time."   
  
"Nyet!" he threw his hands in front of him, shoving the idea away, "No way in hell! I'll have a heart attack!" The others at the table laughed with their eccentric Russian friend and finally Pavel did, too.   
  
He looked around at his friends and smiled to himself. He thought how incredibly lucky he was to be here, with these people, these extraordinary people, these friends. These people that he would trust his life to in a heartbeat.  
What an astonishing idea that would have been then, when it was so....  
  
How far he had come to be in this place. This time. He couldn't remember a better time. A better night. He couldn't ever remember feeling so surrounded by warmth and love. From them. From her. From inside himself. He thought his heart would overflow.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
0705 hrs - "Enterprise continues to map this area for another two weeks, a welcome respite after the Terellian mission. The crew is well rested and in good spirits. Cartography reports good progress on charting the details of the unusual oort cloud that distinguishes this sector. Sensor's report minor radiation ghosting and interference apparently emanating from the cloud - distance from it seems the only solution and cartography reports they will be finished with it by 2100 hours. Communications appears unaffected, something Science Officer Spock was at a loss to explain but a problem which has kept him pleasantly occupied for the past three days."  
  
Kirk snapped off his log recorder and looked toward his Science Officer. In spite of those ears, Spock pretended not to have heard Kirk's comment and continued to study the data stream from cartography and to ponder the selective nature of the interference the luminescent cloud suspended on their forward viewscreen projected.  
  
Kirk smiled a smile of satisfaction. The bridge and everyone in their place...with one notable exception. The Enterprise's Captain was about to take another sip of his coffee when he noticed the time. He stopped in mid-motion - "Chekov's five minutes late?" His satisfaction burst by a prick of irritation, he turned to his Communications Officer, "Uhura, page him, please, uh...actually have him call the bridge."  
  
"Ensign Chekov, please call the bridge....Ensign Chekov, call the bridge please."  
They waited - thirty seconds is a long, long time when it's waited in silence. Kirk's irritation was dissolving into uneasiness as the time ticked away. Spock turned away from his work and listened with the rest of them for the call that would banish the blackness already settling over the bridge.  
  
They all felt it. That nervous anxiety, they did not want to jump to conclusions, but why wasn't he answering? He could answer from anywhere on the ship...if he could answer....  
  
'Probably nothing' Sulu thought uneasily, glancing over his shoulder at Uhura and seeing a mirror of his own apprehension on her face.  
  
Kirk said, "Uhura, call his quarters." She did so - shook her head - no reply. She raised her eyebrows at Kirk, he nodded. She paged Chekov on the shipwide again.  
  
"Captain, Yeoman Landon is calling in."  
  
Kirk stabbed at the comm unit on the arm of his command chair. "Kirk here, Yeoman Landon."  
  
"Captain...I...I was wondering, sir, why you are paging Pa...Ensign Chekov."  
  
"He hasn't reported for duty."  
  
"What! I...Captain, I was with him this morning, I left his quarters at 0645, he said he was going to get a coffee and then go on up to the bridge early." the concern in her voice was causing it to tremble slightly.  
  
Kirk made a decision, "Uhura, have security institute a search." To Landon, he said, "Thank you, Yeoman. We'll let you know as soon as we find out." The Captain switched comm channels. "Kirk to Sickbay."  
  
"McCoy, here."  
  
"Bones, send a medical team to Chekov's quarters, he hasn't reported for duty and he's not responding to pages. Security is on their way there, don't go in without them."   
  
"I'm on my way, Jim."  
  
And now the bridge waited again. Sulu couldn't stand the silence for more than a minute before he muttered, "Probably...fell asleep over breakfast or something...." He glanced at Uhura, she smiled back at him but she couldn't keep the fear out of her eyes.   
  
Kirk jumped as the comm system beside him chirped, "Jim.."  
  
"Bones?"  
  
There was silence from the other end. Sulu turned to glare at the silent comm system. Uhura found she was holding her breath. Something was wrong, terribly wrong here...that feeling, she knew what was coming, she knew it...oh, no....she always had this feeling right before...  
  
"Say it, Bones...."  
  
"He's not here but there's blood, a lot of it, on the floor, and it's his."  
  
"Uhura, security alert one - search one!" she turned to obey, the adrenaline making her hands shake, she drew in an angry breath, steadied herself.  
  
The ship-wide alert jolted everyone out of their early morning routines, woke the sleeping. Sections of the ship were cordoned off from one another as a methodical search began of each section simultaneously. Security was aided by a corps of reserve officers who came off regular duty if permissible to aid in the search. Every corner of the ship would be swept as swiftly and thoroughly as possible on the assumption that someone's life was in immediate peril and they were unable to respond.  
  
The tension on the bridge was becoming unbearable as McCoy continued his report from sickbay. Chekov's quarters were a crime scene now, being swarmed by the forensics' section of security.  
  
"Jim, you have to find him fast! He's lost a lot of blood!"  
  
"Do you...do you have any idea what happened?"  
  
"I don't know, with that much blood, I mean it wasn't a fist fight...a knife, I would guess."  
  
Sulu moaned softly, "Oh..."   
  
Uhura put her hand over her mouth and turned back to her board, barely checked tears stinging her eyes. She blinked as she responded to a light on her board.  
  
"Security, Captain!"  
  
"Kirk, here."  
  
"Lt. Harper, sir. I'm in Ensign Chekov's quarters. I'm not sure what happened here. But, there wasn't a fight. Nothing is disturbed, nothing knocked over, everything's neat as a pin. There are no prints other than Chekov's and Landon's. And no trace evidence out of the ordinary so far and we've done one full preliminary sweep. No sign of a weapon, but no sign of burn or radiation so a knife of some kind would be likely. As far as the blood goes. It was all in one place, like he just stood there bleeding. It's weird, I've never seen anything like it, for that...for that much blood to just be in one place like that. I don't know what to say at this point, Captain, except I think we better find him."  
  
"Thank you, Harper." Kirk snapped off the comm unit. Christ. What the hell was going on? He rubbed a hand across his eyes and when it was gone found Spock beside him.  
  
"Captain, may I have your permission to make a tricorder sweep of Ensign Chekov's quarters?"  
  
Kirk sat up a little straighter. "You have an idea, Spock?"  
  
"Not at the present time." Spock replied and Kirk could have sworn he heard regret in his first officer's voice.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Time. Sulu willed the chronometer on the helm to stop ticking off the seconds, the minutes, one after another after another after another...ten, twenty...what the hell was security doing! How long could it take to find someone...someone hurt...  
  
All they heard back from security was one section after another that he was NOT in, well, then where the hell was he! Sulu felt like screaming and he felt fairly certain Uhura felt the same way and then he thought of Landon. 'She must be losing her mind! I'M losing my mind!" He didn't think he could stand to sit still another minute!  
  
He looked up at the sound of the turbolift opening. Spock stepped onto the bridge and paused, as Kirk swung around in his chair.   
  
Spock shook his head slowly, "Preliminary readings suggest only normal values for background radiation levels and no residuals that could be attributed to either transporter or communications devices."  
  
"Transporter or communications?"  
  
"I did not wish to exclude any possibilities."  
  
"No, of course not. Thank you, Spock."  
  
Spock nodded slightly and returned to his station. Kirk swiveled his chair to the forward view screen again and glanced at the chronometer. 0825 hrs. He couldn't remember ever having such an irrational hatred for a lousy clock.  
  
"Scott to bridge."  
  
"Kirk here, Scotty."  
  
"Any luck?" The hope in the engineer's brogue - the optimism - buoyed Kirk's spirits in spite of the answer to the question.  
  
"I'm afraid not." Kirk replied, surprised at the despairing tone of his own voice.  
  
"Captain, some of my lads and lassies have requested joining the search...we don't need much crew down here right now what with the cartography and..."  
  
"Sure, Scotty. Coordinate with Lt. Harper."  
  
"Aye, Captain. We'll find the lad if we have turn her inside out. Scott out."  
  
'Yes', Kirk thought, 'but by the time we 'turn her inside out' it might be too late. Probably already too late....No!' he shoved the thought aside and picked up the latest fuel consumption report. The one that looked just like the last one but at least it was something.  
  
Uhura was running through a diagnostic of her board for the second time, anticipating every light in sequence - no surprises here. It wasn't helping much. Her subconscious refused to stop flipping through one horrible image after another. 'Stop it!' She glanced out at the bridge, fearing for a moment that she had yelled that right out loud. That was what she felt like doing. Yelling. She sighed, loudly enough that Sulu glanced back at her again and again she gave him a weak smile and again she wished he would stop doing that, looking to her for support. She was no stronger than any of them, they only thought she was. He smiled back and turned away. Relief.  
  
She looked up at the sound of the turbolift doors opening and waited to see who it was, grateful for the distraction, but....no one came out. Her gut tightened, "Captain?"  
  
Kirk turned toward her - tried to meet her eyes, but they were riveted to the still-open doors of the turbo lift. Kirk looked across to the open car and jabbed at the arm on his chair, "Bones! He's up here!"  
  
Uhura and Sulu both jumped up, ready to rush to their friend but he walked slowly out of the lift and everyone froze where they were.   
  
From the look on his ashen face it was very apparent that Pavel Chekov wasn't quite sure where he was. His eyes were glazed, unfocused. He didn't appear to see any of them until Kirk stepped forward and the movement caught Chekov's eye. His head turned slowly toward his Captain.  
  
"Chekov? Can you hear me?" Kirk asked quietly.  
  
Chekov just stared at him for a long moment, then blinked rapidly a couple of times, almost a twitch more than a blink. He took a deep breath and flinched, made a little gasp of pain. He looked down at his chest and frowned, putting his hand to his heart.  
  
After a second, he pulled his hand away slowly, continuing to stare down as his uniform material stuck to his skin and bloomed crimson. He looked up again, looking slightly amazed, then staggered back a few steps, hitting the wall left of the engineering station.   
  
He slowly slid down the wall to a sitting position as Kirk, Uhura and Sulu rushed to him. They got there just as the medteam: McCoy, Chapel and a medic with a stretcher, exited the turbolift.   
  
No one noticed Spock closing his eyes in deep concentration a few feet away.  
  
McCoy said, "Take it easy, Pavel. You'll be fine." He scanned Chekov immediately, frowning at the incongruous readings as Pavel suddenly whispered shakily, with bewilderment, "It's not my heart."  
  
McCoy put his hand to the Ensign's throat. "No, you're okay, son. It's not your heart. Your pulse is strong."   
  
"It's not my heart." He said again as Sulu put a hand on his shoulder, while trying to stay out of the medical team's way.  
  
"No, Pav, it's not. The doc said it's fine, right?"  
  
"You're okay, honey." Uhura squeezed his hand while McCoy continued to try to decipher the readings he was getting.   
  
"Pavel, do you remember what happened?" Kirk asked quietly, moving in to replace Sulu in the small space to the right of his stricken navigator.  
  
Chekov's reply was a not unexpected, "It's not my heart." once again. Kirk squeezed his shoulder, "Okay, that's fine, Ensign." He stepped back as Chekov's eyelids fluttered slightly and his head fell back against the wall.  
  
"Stay with us, Pavel!" McCoy barked. Chekov's eyes opened wider. "Good. That's good son." he encouraged his patient as he reached into his medkit and pulled his fabric cutter out.   
  
"Doctor." Spock said suddenly, his eyes snapping open. They all turned to look at him in surprise. "Something...fundamental...has happened to him." the Vulcan stated.  
  
McCoy frowned at Spock for a second then, quickly and easily slit open the front of Chekov's uniform and as it fell open both Uhura and Sulu barely checked their gasps of shock. Kirk frowned at McCoy.  
  
The blood that had stained the navigators uniform was not a wound. It was an oozing incision. "What the hell?" McCoy muttered under his breath.  
  
He held his scanner over the incision and a look of disbelief settled on his features. He stood up and stepped away a few feet, signaling his paramedic to follow him. Kirk followed as well.  
  
"Call Sickbay. Tell them to prepare O.R. One. Have a detox, a cardio and a cloning kit ready."  
  
"Yes, doctor." The medic stepped away and used his medcom direclink to relay the Chief Medical Officer's orders.  
  
Kirk's face asked the question for him and McCoy answered, "It's not his heart...I mean...the heart inside him doesn't belong to him. He's had a transplant."  
  
Kirk's jaw dropped open and McCoy shrugged, "You tell me." He turned back to his patient. "We're going to take you down to sickbay, Pavel. You're going to be fine. You understand me?"  
  
Chekov hand dropped onto McCoy's arm and squeezed it weakly, "It's not my heart." he said plaintively.  
  
McCoy put his hands on the young Russian's shoulders and peered intently into Chekov's eyes, "I know that, son."  
  
Chekov blinked back at the doctor and then let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
The lights in sickbay were muted, the voices hushed. It was the middle of the night following a long, confusing day. The indicators above the lone patient hovered in an acceptable range of readings. He'd suffered a tremendous shock and his system was still struggling for stability, but he'd already improved.   
  
However, his body was full of what McCoy had described to his Captain earlier as 'really obsolete anti-rejection drugs. As soon as they clear his system, we'll put him on something that didn't come from the Pre-Cambrian era.'  
  
"Drugs used on Earth?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Not any more."  
  
"But, they would have had to come from Earth." It wasn't a question the Captain asked. It was an opinion offered.  
  
"Well, ya, I guess. Some of them are extracted from Amazonian plants, some are...well, no, I mean yes, they would all have to come from Earth or they were manufactured in space by someone who had access to the Terran raw materials required and the knowledge of antiquated pharmaceuticals."  
  
Kirk glanced at Chekov's sleeping form. "What about the heart?"  
  
"It's a good one. Young, strong. It's a female's heart. Or was. Completely human and healthy and absolutely compatible."  
  
"Why the hell..." Kirk glanced at the doctor and got a shrug in return. A thought occurred to Kirk. "Do you think it was a switch or...?"  
  
"Well, that's something I can't tell from...well, wait a minute...it was carefully done and actually they left more of the pulmonary artery intact, I mean more of his. Usually, with a transplant you would remove more of the recipients artery and use more of the donor's artery...unless they never had it for some reason...I don't know, Jim, I thought I had a theory there for a second that his heart was at some point going to be returned to him. Maybe just wishful thinking."  
  
Kirk looked down at Chekov again, his face was tinged with something resembling it's normal colouring and he looked peaceful in his post-operative slumber. "He can't hear us?" Kirk whispered, McCoy shook his head. "What if it isn't?" Kirk asked.   
  
"Returned?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hmmm...well, it can be a traumatic thing. Psychologically. We're ready to clone one of his own but even that's full of it's own problems. People store a lot of emotion in their hearts and cloning recipients report feeling completely empty with a newly cloned heart. There have been a few suicides, severe depressions...and Chekov's a border line cardio-sensitive...." at Kirk's quizzical expression, McCoy added, "...a person who'll likely experience cellular memories or impressions from a donor heart. Cardio-sensitives exhibit a particular psychological profile - he has most of those characteristics."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Physically: he's an ectomorph, slender, he has a slight tendency to underweight. He has high bodily kinesthetic intelligence, excellent hand/eye coordination - and he has dark eyes, for some reason about seventy percent of sensitives have dark eyes. Emotionally: he can be compulsive. He's driven, self-critical, much more likely to forgive faults in others than in himself. He's highly emotional, creative, and is more likely to think with his heart than his head. He becomes highly absorbed in whatever he is doing and has a tendency to forget to eat or sleep if he finds something particularly interesting. He's able to find 'fun' in the most mundane tasks. He has musical ability. He's environmentally sensitive, hyper-aware of his surroundings, he would be able to describe in accurate and very minute detail a room he'd just left. He has above average visualization abilities. He's exhibited a chronic mildly depressive nature and he's also used a common defensive tactic associated with it - self-deprecating humour. He loves animals, has always had cats or dogs for pets...." McCoy stopped for a moment and Kirk wondered at the odd look on the doctor's face, but waited quietly for him to continue. "Most significantly, he's suffered a severe break in a previous emotional bond that is still unresolved."  
  
Kirk's question was non-verbal but McCoy's answer wasn't. "Jim, it's a confidential matter, part of his medical record, something to which even a ships captain isn't privy. If I think it has a bearing on a wider issue than his health, well, then, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."  
  
Kirk sighed, "I always suspected there was...something." He rubbed a hand tiredly across his eyes, "I just wish he...do you know if any of his friends know?"  
  
McCoy shook his head, "I would doubt it...maybe Landon. It's...well, he's only been on board just about a year and when someone's been..." The word 'damaged' almost came out of McCoy's mouth, he struggled to find another for a moment, "...traumatized...it takes a while, sometimes a lifetime, to rebuild trust enough to allow emotional dependence on others."  
  
"Traumatized?" Kirk echoed and McCoy realized he'd probably made a worse choice than his original thought. "That bad?" Kirk asked and McCoy nodded. Kirk shook his head and felt a rush of anger that had nowhere to go. "What will it do to him - if he starts to have...cellular memories from this...donor?"  
  
"Good question."  
  
Kirk decided it was a good enough question with which to end this interminable day.  
  
And now, there was nobody there but Chapel and a medtech and Martha Landon, here since she had rushed to sickbay, frantic. And then she'd been as still as a statue, a permanent fixture beside his bed once he was out of the o.r. She held his hand and stroked his face and spoke softly to him, "I'm here, sweetie. You're not alone, Pav, you're not alone, I'm right here, I'm right here, ....."  
  
And she was right there right through the night . She slept on a stretcher beside his bed and didn't wake when McCoy inadvertently dropped his coffee cup in his office. He cursed under his breath and glanced out at the med bay, but neither patient nor visitor stirred.   
  
But, now, hours later Pavel made a tiny whimpering sound and she leaped off the stretcher and reached for his hand almost before her eyes opened. Chapel appeared at his bedside silently and instantly, patting Landon's shoulder as she checked the diagnostic panel above the bed. He was regaining consciousness. After confirming a stable set of vitals she touched the wall com and hailed McCoy.   
  
"McCoy here." he drawled sleepily.  
  
"Chekov is coming around, doctor."  
  
"Be right there." the doctor snapped briskly.  
  
Chapel looked down at Pavel. She reached out and brushed his forehead, he felt a little cool - she looked up at the diagnostic again - his temp was down two degrees - she turned the heat up on the bed and went to get another blanket. Even though the bed would warm him up, there was nothing quite so comforting as the weight of a couple of blankets, even if they were a pain for the med staff at times.  
  
Martha smiled at her as she laid the blanket over him. "His hands are so cold."   
  
"It's normal after surgery sometimes. We'll make sure he's comfortable. His vitals are nice and steady...he'll be fine."   
  
Surgery had consisted of McCoy doing a deep cardio E-mag scan to get a look at the heart and make sure it was functioning properly. It was. And McCoy felt it unnecessary at that point to do anything more invasive. There were no foreign bodies detected and he wasn't bleeding inside. The blood on his uniform had come from the rather crude incision, which McCoy had reopened and repaired.   
  
McCoy performed a detoxification procedure on him. He wanted to neutralize the drugs in his system as quickly as possible, they were beating his immune system into submission. That was how transplant rejection had been avoided in the past. Modern drugs, in conjunction with (in heart transplant cases) Cardioenergetics and hypnotherapy techniques were a much gentler way of persuading a body not to treat a new organ like an invader to be destroyed by armies of t-cells.  
  
And transplants were rare now. Cloning a new organ was much easier than transplantation and less traumatic. And McCoy had begun cloning a new heart for Chekov - in case his was never found again and he couldn't live with the heart inside him at the moment.   
  
The idea that someone could breach the ship undetected, assault one of his crewmembers in such a bizarre manner and then just disappear infuriated the Enterprise Captain. He ordered security to take extraordinary precautions. Sensors skated over the hull of the Enterprise every few thousandths of a second now. Extraship sweeps were widened and their frequencies were broadened.   
  
Inside the ship a security alert was still in effect and crewmembers had been issued personal alarms in the hope that whatever happened to Pavel Chekov could be prevented a second time. Crew were traveling in pairs...whatever safety that precaution provided, humans felt psychologically more secure - 'safety in numbers'.   
  
Turbolift car #6, the car that had carried Chekov to the bridge had been offlined by security as soon as they had been relayed the sickbay call as to his whereabouts. The car was examined by forensics and this time they found evidence of transporter residuals. Spock examined the car himself and confirmed securities findings and added one of his own.   
  
Turbolift car #11 held the same residual tracings as #6. Kirk ordered the turbolifts shut down until further notice. It was a big ship and the loss of the fast cars caused some grumbling and some traffic jams on access ladders. But most crew agreed they wouldn't feel safe in a lift anyway.   
  
Martha sighed, and looked at him, whispered, "If he's coming around, should I try to talk to him, help him wake up?"  
  
"We'll wait for..." she broke off as McCoy entered the sickbay. For somebody who had been wakened from a deep sleep he looked wide awake, but then a lot of physicians were used to snoring one minute and being on their feet and out the door the next.  
  
"Ladies..." he studied the readings, chewing on his lip. "Did you turn the bed temp up?" He didn't look to Christine for an answer, or to the bed controls, instead he grinned, "Never mind, I know you did, I'm not awake yet...everything looks pretty good." He moved closer to his patient, leaned down and said quietly, "Pavel, wake up....come on...open your eyes..." McCoy tapped him lightly on the cheek, "Pavel, wake up!"  
  
The reluctant patient didn't open his eyes but croaked a tired whisper, "...don't want to..."  
  
McCoy grinned, "I know, son. But there are a couple of beautiful ladies here who want you to open your eyes, ok?"  
  
Chekov's eyes opened and he grinned weakly, "Cheat." He coughed a little, then gasped, "Shit!" He struggled to catch his breath.  
  
"Easy, easy. Slow, gentle breaths...ok....ok, that's better..."  
  
But it wasn't better for long. Suddenly his hand tightened around Landon's so hard she yelped, "Ow!"  
  
His head arched back as an alarm went off on the diagnostic, he thrashed in the bed, his hand pulling out of Landon's. She jumped back as that hand struck her mouth. McCoy grabbed his right arm while Chapel hit the bed's restraint controls.They snaked out and captured the seizing body in their webs, tightening down slowly.  
  
McCoy let go of his arm as the webbing took it and checked the readings. He wasn't breathing. He was conscious. And McCoy could see the terror in his eyes - unable to breath, strapped down.  
  
"Pavel!" McCoy grabbed his face in both hands, "Breathe! You can breathe! There's nothing wrong! You can breathe!"  
  
He glanced up at the readings again - there was no reason for him not to be able to breath. He didn't want to sedate him, that could cause more problems than they had now, when he didn't know what those problems were.  
  
He slapped his patients face, "Pavel! Breathe! Breathe, goddamit!"  
  
But Chekov only jerked under the webbing, then froze rigidly, his eyes fluttering as he passed out. And then, as soon as he lost consciousness, he gasped in ragged lungfuls of air.  
  
Landon watched incredulously, "What the hell was that! Why..."  
  
"I don't know." McCoy looked at her. You okay?" She nodded and he continued, "There was no physical reason for him not to be able to breathe. Obviously, since as soon as he lost consciousness his autonomic system took over and started breathing." McCoy answered.  
  
She watched Pavel move his head slowly, he moaned quietly. "You mean he did that on purpose?"  
  
McCoy shrugged. 'Christine, 300 mil Flexnil."  
  
She turned to go get the hypo, then stopped, "Doctor..."   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I was checking his medical records earlier." she glanced at Landon, unwilling to go on, suddenly aware of a breach of patient confidentiality.  
  
Martha realized what was happening, "I think I'll get some tea - anybody else?"  
  
"Thanks, Martha. That would be great." McCoy replied and then turned to Christine when she had gone, "And..."  
  
"Do you remember what it said in his file, about stopping breathing?"  
  
"Oh, my God! That's right. He used to hold his breath until he passed out."  
  
"He started doing it when he was four. He did it seventeen times before he was six."  
  
"Until his arm was broken and they finally left."  
  
"Yes." She studied the young man in the bed, her face tightened. "Pretty awful...I wonder if Landon knows...."  
  
McCoy, "I don't know...what I'd like to know is how this all connects..."  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I want it out." The patients belligerent tone had remained the same all morning.  
  
"Son, I..."  
  
"Stop calling me that! I'm not your son!" Chekov spat at McCoy.   
  
McCoy put a hand on his shoulder, "Pavel, I..."  
Chekov swatted the hand away. McCoy recoiled in shock, as his furious patient continued angrily, "You only call me that to put me in place! Let me know what I think or want is worth shit!"  
  
"Ensign Chekov - that's enough!" Kirk angrily reprimanded his navigator. He understood Chekov was upset but his patience for the patient was wearing badly.  
  
Kirk jumped when the respiratory alarm went off on the panel above the bed. McCoy looked at Chekov's face - he wasn't panicked, as he had been last time, he appeared to be waiting for something. But as the time passed he grabbed a handful of blanket in his clenched fist. McCoy thought they were about to have a repeat of the night time incident when Chekov suddenly gasped.  
  
He swiped at his moist eyes with the heel of his hand. "Fuck!"  
  
"O.K. take it easy, so..." McCoy stopped himself.   
  
Chekov sighed and smiled at him and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry...it's coming from 'it'...I want that thing out of me....it's making me crazy."  
  
"How?" Kirk asked.  
  
"How the hell should I know!" He let out an exasperated breath, "Bozhe moi...you see... it's...I don't want...something is...oh, damn it, I can't think...I can't concen...." He took a breath. "...trate..." He sighed "...I'm so......" and closed his eyes.  
  
Kirk opened his mouth but McCoy touched his arm and nodded toward his office. Kirk nodded, "I'll look in on you later, Ensign. Just get some rest now." His navigator didn't answer him, already sleeping.  
  
As Kirk took the chair in front of his desk, McCoy retrieved a bottle of Saurian brandy from his desk drawer. As he poured the Captain's drink he made his decision.  
  
"I'm breaching his rights of patient confidentiality but I have no doubt that what's happened has something to do with what happened to him...before."  
  
"Happened to him before what?"  
  
McCoy leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath, "Before somebody had the guts to protect a little kid from the monster in his house."  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
"What is it?" Uhura asked the Science Officer.  
  
"That is what I have yet to ascertain, Lieutenant." Spock answered, still concentrating on running the data through the computer again. "Hmmm...." he turned to her. "Please call the Captain to the bridge." He stood and looked into the scanner at the science station, his face bathed in it's blue light, he made small adjustments to it's alignment and fed the image captured in his sights into the data stream flowing into the library computer.  
  
Sulu glanced to his right, like he always did when something interesting happened on the bridge. He got nothing back, though. Ensign Calvin was concentrating so closely on the board he seemed oblivious to his immediate surroundings. Sulu felt disappointed. He missed Chekov. Beyond worrying about his friend, he had selfish reasons to hope he was back on the bridge soon. He was simply fun to work with.   
  
Pavel Chekov looked for the entertainment value in every little moment - even plotting the most boring straight line course imaginable. Sulu would never forget the day after their first gravball game - he had beaten Chekov soundly in the first game, so soundly that he couldn't help a little uncharacteristic gloating, against his better, and usually impeccable, manners.  
  
Chekov seemed to take it in stride though and suggested another game to give him a chance to regain his dignity. Sulu gamely agreed, making a show of his magnanimous gesture with an exaggerated bow. It was getting late and they'd only agreed to one game, but he'd give the kid another chance to humiliate himself if he wanted.   
  
Chekov humbly thanked him for the second chance and then rocketed a blistering serve past Sulu's left ear...after which he bowed in his own exaggerated bow, mocking his helm partner. 'I've been had', Sulu thought dismally, frozen in impotent helplessness as another scorcher hit the back wall, 'So had.'  
  
He was slaughtered. And he was angry. Halfway through the match he had the overwhelming urge to punch Chekov out, but he took his anger out on the game and found that focus gave him the chance to return a couple of those warp speed shots coming at him. But, still, the score was 21 - 0.   
  
He didn't know Chekov that well at the time, he'd only just been on the bridge a couple of weeks. He liked working with him, he thought, but as the game went on, he wondered if he could stand to look at the guy again. But, after the game, Chekov had apologized to him. "I'm sorry. I don't usually play a recreational game so...intensely."  
  
"Recreational?" Sulu asked, mopping the sweat from his face with a towel.  
  
"Yes." Chekov said a little guiltily, raking his sopping bangs with his fingers. "I should...I'm sorry. I was Russian Junior Champion two years. I shouldn't have taken advantage but...."  
  
"But, I was being such a pompous ass..."  
  
Chekov laughed, "Well, I wouldn't have expressed it that way but - yes!"  
  
"'There absolutely are no things  
Nowhere and none that arise anew.'"  
  
Chekov gave him a quizzical look, Sulu smiled, "It's from a Buddhist writing my father quoted on...many...occasions. From 'Nagarjuna's Analysis of Causality and of Nirvana'."  
  
"I see...." Chekov made an exaggerated face that made it obvious he didn't get it at all.  
  
Sulu laughed, "It means that, everything has a cause. I acted like an ass, causing you to annihilate me." His grin widened, "My father probably quoted those two lines to me more than any others!" his voice dropped and took on a raspy tone, "Hikaru! Hikaru! You forget Nagarjuna already!"  
  
Chekov's smile looked a bit strained, Sulu thought, just before the navigator asked quietly, "You have a good relationship with your father, don't you?"  
  
"Ya...like anybody else's, I guess, you know....." Sulu watched the smile fade from the navigators face as the dark eyes focused somewhere far away and Sulu hesitated before asking, "You?"   
  
The Russian met his eyes again, favoured him with a weak smile, then shook his head and shrugged. Sulu could feel the pain seem to radiate out of him. He wished he knew him better, he might have taken the liberty of pressing the matter. But he didn't. And so, he didn't.   
  
And then Chekov just turned and walked away from him and Sulu didn't know it but he'd seen the beginning of a pattern that would become all too familiar to the people who would come to care about Pavel Andreievich Chekov.  
  
He thought a lot about the Enterprise's new navigator that night. And the next day the young man at his right hand seemed subdued and Sulu hoped he was okay. He genuinely liked this kid who had seemed too cocky, too keen, too smart, too everything, at first.   
  
Sulu had seen the type before. Most of them burned out and a few had even flared and disintegrated on the bridge (McCoy groused about some problem with the navigation console, navigators seemed to self-destruct at ten times the rate of other crew). But, a lot of them were just what they appeared to be on the surface, Sulu thought, although his father would have berated him for not looking deeper. Sulu didn't always agree with his father that there WAS a 'deeper' in everyone. But, he did know about their newest bridge addition. He had seen the tip of the proverbial iceberg and he wondered about that ninety percent frozen beneath the smooth surface.  
  
That day Sulu missed the slight light in the navigator's eye at the moment his helmcomp demanded his attention. It was accepting two possible return course options from the navcomp. Sulu frowned at the first course, it's outline looked brighter than normal, enhanced or something and Sulu could swear that the unusual angle the navcomp had chosen to view the course from gave it a somewhat...uhm...phallic appearance. And a rather robust one at that.   
  
He glanced at Chekov and got the distinct impression the intense concentration the navigator was applying to some invisible aberration on his board was for the helmsman's benefit. Sulu's gaze slid suspiciously from the occupied Ensign to the second course coming in from navigation.   
  
A sad sight it was, too. A weakly, barely lit line that in two dimensions appeared distinctly...droopy. Then he noticed the chart number assigned to it - 21/0. Even out of the corner of his eye Sulu could see the Russians shoulders start to shake...until he heard the Captain clear his throat behind them. Chekov coughed a couple of times and cleared his throat.  
  
But, Sulu realized to his horror that a giggle was trying with brute force to break out of his throat. 'Oh, my God', he thought desperately, trying everything he could think of to distract himself. He remembered another time, in meditation with his father....'No! Don't think of that!' Too late, a little squeak came out of him.   
  
He started to run a diagnostic on his board - and another little sound got out of him. Chekov frowned a little and didn't turn to him, but Sulu could see his eyes glance in his direction.   
  
Sulu tried not to breathe, his insides were clenched against the inevitable. It was right there! He clenched his mouth shut - and it came snorting out of his nose instead. His mouth popped open automatically and an hysterical staccato noise burst out of him, in response to which, Ensign Chekov turned to stare at him, his mouth open in amazement. He hadn't heard Sulu really laugh before. The stunned look on Chekov's face only sent Sulu into another fit.   
  
And that started Chekov. He turned away quickly, his body shaking in silent paroxysms. "Gentlemen..." the Captain began. Both officers sat straighter, cleared their throats and suffered in silence.  
  
The Captain decided to take pity on his officers. He got up from his command chair, "Lieutenant Uhura, I will be in...." he opened his hands, seeking inspiration, none was forthcoming so he finished lamely, "...sickbay...if you need me."  
  
She grinned at him, "Yes, Captain." And as soon as he was gone she turned toward the helm and waited. It took two and three quarter seconds for them to explode with uncontrollable laughter. She watched them calmly, shaking her head and then the turbolift doors opened and Mr. Spock walked onto the bridge. "Hem..." she said loudly and saw two backs stiffen simultaneously.   
  
Spock raised a eyebrow at her and continued past her to the science station. After he passed she looked down at the helm again and knew that a new bond of friendship had been forged there - born of mutual misery. She smiled to herself, grateful to be 'above' such boyish foolishness.  
  
She cleared her throat around 'something' and looked down into the bridge's lower level again. She hoped the Sulu/Chekov team would work out. They'd been through a few navigators over the past year and it would be nice if they could settle into a solid working unit on the alpha shift.   
  
She had a feeling about Chekov, she thought he was probably going to be around for awhile. It was a relief to see he had a sense of humour. She was beginning to think he was as dark as the St. Petersburg sky she'd tried to will to lighten up during a one week trip there in mid-winter when she was a young girl. She wondered how people endured living in such darkness for months never ending!  
  
Then, she'd gone there during the summer and walked the wide Nevsky Prospect along the glimmering Eva at 2 a.m. in the pale magical twilight of the three month day that was summer. And she understood. This Russian in their midst was very much like that mystical city built by Peter The Great on the Eva Delta: the light.....and....the dark.....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"You told him, didn't you." Chekov's tone was more weary than accusatory but McCoy felt a twinge of guilt anyway and wondered why their relationship was so complicated. And then, thought fleetingly that if he really thought about it he would be able to figure it out....later...  
  
"I'm sorry, I thought it was important, Chekov. I think it might have a lot to do with why you were...chosen."  
  
"Why did you keep this to yourself?" Kirk asked quietly.   
  
The dark eyes met his Captain's gaze levelly, on this subject he was the authority, and Kirk felt a little taken aback by the boldness of Chekov's scrutiny. "Because of that...because of that look right there." Kirk knew immediately what Chekov was referring to and felt a twinge of awkwardness. "Is ok, Captain. It's only natural, I suppose. I just wanted little more time, to get to know people as myself before.....and to not feel like, or be looked at, like victim....a victim." he corrected his faltering Standard, it often slipped when he was very tired. And he was very, very tired.  
  
Kirk considered his words for a moment before choosing, "In the past you had no choice...but that's past and you're the only one who can choose to see yourself as a victim now, Pavel."  
  
Chekov nodded, "Da, I know."   
  
"That's not how I think of you. And I don't think anyone else will, either." Chekov didn't answer the implied question, Kirk smiled, "When you're ready...your choice, again."  
  
Chekov looked to McCoy again, "Why did you say...'chosen'?"  
  
"Beyond the physical compatibility there might be an emotional connection that the...surgeon...was seeking."  
  
Chekov stared at him for a moment with an expression that told both the Captain and the Chief Medical Officer that he was about to ask a question he probably already knew the answer to. "What do you mean...connection?"  
  
"I have a hunch, Pavel, and I think you do, too, that whoever did this is looking for...an answer to a question..." McCoy was so absorbed in his conversation with his patient that he failed to note the Captain's startled reaction to this revelation of what his CMO thought might be going on here.  
  
"It's not her." Chekov said suddenly and looked as surprised as Kirk and McCoy at what he'd said. His face relaxed for a moment and then a slight frown creased his brow as he seemed to listen to something only he could hear. Then, he clarified his previous statement with, "She's not the one looking for the answer...it's...somebody wants to know...somebody else...wants to know..."  
  
"Know what?" Kirk asked. The question clearly disturbed Chekov and his expression shut down as suddenly as it had opened up a moment earlier. Now, all that was left was fatigue, it seemed to etch his features all at once and he lay back against the pillow.   
  
McCoy glanced up at the indicators and gave Kirk a little signal that time was up. Kirk nodded, "I'll look in on you later, get some sleep." Chekov's eyes were already closed but he nodded and whispered raggedly, "Yes, sir."  
  
Kirk and McCoy left him sleeping and stepped into the doctor's office. "Did you tell him the heart was from a female?" Kirk asked immediately.  
  
McCoy had wondered if the Captain had picked that up. He shook his head and Kirk asked, "What does that mean?"  
  
"It means I no longer think he's a borderline cardio-sensitive."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Uhura and Sulu both straightened as Yeoman Landon entered the mess. "She looks tired." Uhura said quietly to Sulu. She smiled at Landon when she caught her eye and waved her over. Landon indicated the replicator and Uhura nodded.  
  
"Ya." Sulu agreed, watching her retrieve her tea. "I wish we could at least see him." McCoy had decided to limit his visitors for the present time. Even Landon was on a restricted visitation schedule because the Captain needed time to debrief him. Sulu pulled a chair out as Landon approached the table.  
  
"Thanks." she said, sitting and setting a cup of tea in front her. She suddenly felt the awkwardness of the situation. She really didn't know the two lieutenants very well.   
  
"How is he?" Sulu asked.  
  
Martha smiled at him, "I...I guess he's doing okay. He's confused. Tired. He asked for a glass of milk today."  
  
"He hates milk!" Sulu exclaimed.  
  
"I know...like I said, he's confused..." She took a sip of the tea, her hand trembled slightly and she set the cup down a bit heavily.  
  
Uhura reached across the table, touched her arm, "How are YOU?"  
  
Landon laughed a little. "Okay. Confused. Tired." She smiled shyly at Uhura, she admired the Communication Officer's confidence but found it somewhat intimidating. It might have had something to do with the fact that Chekov had told her that of all the people on the bridge, including the Captain and Mr. Spock, it was Uhura's approval that meant the most to him.  
  
That had come as a total shock to the Ensign. Of course, he craved the Captain's approval and he had been thrilled when Mr. Spock, probably the most formidable First Officer in the Fleet, had found in him enough substance to warrant tutelage at the Science station. And, he was happy that his work style seemed to mesh so well with Sulu's, they were already reading each other as though they had been working together for years. And they had fun working together.  
  
Uhura was the only one on the bridge that his work didn't directly affect, unless, as he had put it to Landon, he inadvertently, '...drove into the side of a planet...'  
But, what Uhura brought to the bridge was a dignity and a sense of life beyond the walls of the dome atop the primary hull; a feeling for the bigger questions.  
  
The approval of the others was important but they were functions of his job, his work, his abilities. What he looked for from Uhura was validation of himself as a person. More than anything, he wanted to believe that she thought he was a good and decent person. And, he had been surprised when Landon pushed him on a choice between approval as an officer by the Captain or approval of himself as a person by Uhura that he chose the latter.   
  
It surprised him because for a very long time he had thought that being a good officer would make him a good and decent person and he was just now finding out that achieving all of these goals he had set for himself had left him somehow...empty. He had wanted to get into the academy. He did. He had wanted to excel there. He did. He wanted to get a posting to the Enterprise. He did. He wanted to get on to the bridge. He did. He wanted to work more closely with Mr. Spock. He did. He wanted the respect of his Captain and the command crew. He had it. And it was still...not enough.  
  
And it had happened so fast, it seemed. After years of struggle, suddenly he was where he thought everything would feel better. And it didn't. And it pissed him off. But, it was forcing him to look elsewhere and to look at what he didn't want to look at and Landon thought that could only be a good thing and she knew he was making progress and after the birthday party was certain of it and now this...thing had happened and what was that sound.....  
  
Landon looked up to find the Lieutenants both studying her, she looked from one to the other, it was strange to be sitting here with them, she barely knew them but felt she did because Pavel talked about them. He loved them both so very much and felt very lucky to work with them and hoped they felt the same about him.  
  
"Can I ask you something?" she said suddenly. And then, almost immediately regretted it. The question she was about to ask would let them know that he was keeping something from them. She knew she didn't have the right to expose that confidence...damn it, she wasn't thinking!  
  
"Sure." Sulu said brightly.  
  
"I..." Martha began. "I'm sorry, I'm really tired. It's not important. If you'll excuse me..." she started to get up from the table, hoping to hurry from the room before they had a chance to press her.  
Uhura put a hand on her arm. Uhura's liquid brown eyes searched hers and Landon felt they might have held the universe and suddenly understood how Pavel could have so badly wanted this woman to think highly of him. "Whatever it is, it won't change how we feel about him."   
  
'Of course', Landon thought, 'Of course she would know.' She managed to acknowledge the Lieutenant's statement with a smile and a nod and then left quickly.  
  
Uhura and Sulu looked at each other and knew in their silence that they had their work cut out for them and knew that whatever it took they were willing to pay the price for this kid and they both knew something else. It would be small compared to the price he had probably already paid.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"It's a what!" Kirk exclaimed to his first officer as he jumped up from the command chair and hopped up the stairs to the bridge deck's upper level.  
  
Spock had expected such a reaction but raised an eyebrow anyway, knowing that would also be expected and wishing to indulge in a private amusement. "It is a human heartbeat."  
  
He reached down and touched the control that would allow the bridge at large to hear what he had heard. And it filled the space suddenly da-dum da-dum da-dum.  
  
Uhura took a breath and cleared her throat. She always felt vaguely uncomfortable when exposed to that sound, she always felt her own heart trying to sync up with the beat of an invisible heart and it disturbed her. She knew there were people who listened to this sound to fall asleep or to meditate or just relax - she just didn't understand it.  
  
"It is coming directly from the cloud and is being transmitted deliberately at this vessel." Spock said as the sound of the heart suddenly accelerated. Uhura wished they would turn the sound down, feeling her own heart race. She glanced down at Sulu and could tell by the tense set of his jaw that he felt the same way.  
  
Her board bleeped, "Captain, it's Dr. McCoy." she said.  
  
"What is it, Bones?"  
  
"Jim...Chekov's heart rate just shot up the scale and he's telling me, I don't know how to explain this, he says he can feel his own heart...nearby....whatever that means..."  
Spock spoke up, "Captain...." at Kirk's nod, the Science Officer continued, "Dr. McCoy, please establish an open communications channel between the library computer and the acoustic cardiac recorder on Mr. Chekov's diagnostic panel."  
  
"What fo...o.k....." Several decks below them McCoy complied, Spock opened the channel to the bridge at large and they heard the noise of a second heart beat join the first. It reminded Kirk a bit of his court martial years ago, when they'd listened to the heart beats of everyone on board, eliminating them one by one to determine that Finney was still alive and on board. A jangling noise it was then, and now. He took a deep breath, there was something unsettling about that arrhythmic sound that....  
  
He heard small gasps from almost everyone on the bridge as the two sounds synched up and slowed down into one steady, strong rhythm. Uhura looked at the goose bumps popping up on her arms.  
  
"Would somebody like to tell me what the hell is going on?" McCoy's craggy voice was edged with annoyance and Kirk had to smile....he wasn't up here on Deck One where a lovely calm had pervaded the air. He looked at Uhura, she smiled back at him....there was a feeling on the bridge right now, for the first time in the past few days, that everything was going to be all right.   
  
"Dynamic Systems Memory, Dr. McCoy." Spock answered.  
  
"Bones, is Chekov all right?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Ya, he's fine...he's....relieved...you're ok, aren't you?" McCoy asked his patient. The bridge heard a small murmur in response and McCoy's laugh, "Ya, Jim, he's fine."  
  
"Good. I want a meeting in sickbay in ten minutes. You, me, Spock and Chekov."  
  
"We'll be ready, Captain. Sickbay out."   
  
Kirk turned back to his First Officer, "Dynamic Systems Memory."  
  
"Undoubtedly."  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I agree with Spock." McCoy said. "You know what that means, Pavel?"  
  
Chekov nodded, he'd had enough MedPhysics, basic though it was, at the academy to remember the Dynamic Systems Memory Theory. But, he wanted to...  
  
"What is it?" McCoy asked. Chekov smiled at him, in spite of their sometimes thorny relationship, he respected McCoy's abilities as a physician and especially his perceptive awareness of his patient's needs.  
  
Chekov indicated the small viewscreen beside his bed, "I want to see it."  
  
"The cloud?" McCoy asked and his patient nodded again as McCoy reached over and flicked the monitor on. It's screen brightened and Chekov saw what had been dominating the bridge viewscreen for the past five days and he saw something else....  
  
He let out a little breath and a small moan, "Oh...." his eyes welled with tears and he reached a hand out slowly to touch the image. "...Bozhe moi..." he breathed. his voice almost choked off with emotion. McCoy squeezed his shoulder as Chekov whispered, "It's there...." his fingers traced across the screen as tears now flowed freely down his face. His hand fell away as he let out a breath and winced. McCoy checked the e-pain indicator, saw the spike he expected.  
  
"O.K. that's enough for now." he reached out to turn the monitor off but Pavel caught at his arm.  
  
"No, pazshalsta, please....it's o.k., leave it, please..." McCoy looked at him dubiously, Chekov sighed, "I'm fine...ok?"  
  
McCoy withdrew his hand, as Kirk stepped forward, "You feel up to this?" Chekov nodded and Kirk continued, "What do you know about Dynamic Systems Memory."  
  
Chekov closed his eyes a moment, accessing his own memory, "Dr's Gary Schwartz and Linda Russek at the Human Energy Systems Laboratory at the University of Arizona in the United States developed the theory in the late twentieth century." Kirk smiled to himself, did Chekov remember every single damn thing he had learned at the academy? He shook his head as the Ensign continued, "Info-energy is continually exchanged between dynamic systems."  
  
"Spock?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Essentially correct, Captain, if abbreviated. Dynamic System Memory was accepted in the year 2002 and altered the fields of biology, medicine and quantum physics. It proved that information is a form of energy and that cardiac energy in particular was a powerful medium for the transmission of cellular memory to the 75 trillion cells that make up the human body. The medical applications are probably best explained by Dr. McCoy."  
  
McCoy looked up at the mention of his name. He'd been staring at a mark on the floor, he'd been listening to Spock on one level but on another he was trying to tie all of this theorizing into what had happened to his patient.  
  
"Well, of course, there'd always been those questions about the heart. Was it just a magnificent pump or something more? Why did people feel emotions in the heart area and not the head if the brain was running the whole show? Why did people asked to point to themselves almost always touch their chest, instead of their head, or their foot, or whatever. And, when transplantation began to become more routine, why did people experience memories and impressions from donors they had learned nothing about? I've been checking the data banks from that time period, late twentieth century to early twenty-first and there was violent disagreement on these questions. But, the questions remained and more and more scientists came to believe that just because we didn't have the instruments to measure info-energy didn't mean it didn't exist. When the first IE detector was built in 2001, it turned everything upside down and inside out. It confirmed what experiments with cellular cultures had told scientists....the heart pumps information to the cells and some cells are more capable of capturing and retaining that information or memory...and cardiac cells are the best at not only capture and retention of memory, but also of transmission. Experiments done in the early twenty-first century showed that a heart outside a body for even years could, on transplantation into a body, transmit information from it's previous 'owner' to the recipient."  
  
"So, you believe that Chekov has been given this heart so that he could 'remember' the information it stored."  
  
McCoy nodded. Spock looked from the Captain to the doctor, McCoy grinned at him, "It's a hunch. One that, I think, Chekov shares."  
  
Pavel looked up at his superior officers, "Yes. I believe that also...they want an answer to a question."  
  
"They?" Kirk asked.  
  
Chekov shrugged, "I don't know, Captain...but they are...benevolent, I'm certain of that. They just want to know...." his voice trailed off as he started to chew on his lip.  
  
"Know what?"  
  
The navigator sighed and shook his head, "I don't...I don't want to think about it, it's too, it makes me feel..." Several alarms went off on the diagnostic panel, as Chekov's breathing again labored against the anxiety welling up inside him. McCoy reached up and shut the noise off, then looked down at his patient.  
  
He had visibly paled, he lifted a hand to swipe at his eyes, the hand shook badly. He let out an explosive breath, "Damn! If it's...if it's..." he stopped, trying to get his breathing under control, "If it's this bad now...I don't want to...what is it going to be like if I..." He took a deep breath and blew it out.  
  
"Take your time, Pavel." McCoy said quietly, watching the young man struggle with whatever was happening inside him. Whatever was stressing him had his readings going all over the place...b.p. was skyrocketing, electrolytes were fluctuating, and of course his pulse was racing and his respiration was becoming increasingly erratic. "Try to steady yourself..." Chekov took another deep breath and closed his eyes, "Good...." McCoy encouraged him as his blood pressure started to drop. "That's good..." Chekov opened his eyes and McCoy grinned down at him as the indicators overhead steadied.  
  
Chekov coughed a little and McCoy asked, "Do you want some water?" Chekov nodded, accepting the drink from the doctor when McCoy's grin widened. "I could get some milk..."   
  
Chekov screwed up his face, "Ugh...I can't believe I drank milk...it's disgusting..."  
  
McCoy took the cup from him and the doctor asked, "It disgusts you now?"  
  
"It always did...it just didn't...yesterday."  
  
"Why do you suppose that is?" McCoy asked.  
  
Chekov thought about it for a second. "I was a lot more tired yesterday. 'It' seems stronger when I'm tired."  
  
"It?" Kirk asked.  
  
"The...feelings I get from 'it'...the heart. When I'm tired, or when I'm falling asleep or waking up it's a lot stronger...until I..."  
  
"Shut it down." Kirk supplied.  
  
The young man nodded and Spock, observing quietly for most of the past few minutes stepped forward, "Ensign Chekov, what, in your opinion, would happen if you did not 'shut it down'?"   
  
The look on the Russian's face left no doubt what he thought of that idea. McCoy glanced anxiously at the readings but they held steady for the moment. Chekov's eyes fixed on his hands, twisting anxiously together, he shook his head, took a deep breath, and then said, very quietly, "Something....awful....." He looked up at the Vulcan. He had always found it a bit disquieting meeting Spock's eyes even in day to day bridge business, and now, when he felt his own eyes prickling with tears again it felt doubly difficult.   
  
But there was something comforting and leveling about the detachment he met in the First Officer's eyes and he hoped, and was grateful, when Spock continued.   
  
"Ensign, am I correct in surmising that this ominous foreboding is coming from the heart within your body?"  
  
The elemental nature of the question surprised Chekov, he had expected something more...complex...from the Vulcan...and he thought they had already covered that ground, hadn't they?  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And there is nothing your mind can do to stop this feeling?"  
  
"Well...I can do a bit, like I did a minute ago, but...I know it would overwhelm me if I let it...so, no, there is nothing I could do to stop it."  
  
"Is it your belief that the heart within your body will continue to attempt to communicate with you?"  
  
Chekov only had to hear the question before the answer exploded from within like a punch in the chest. The realization struck him hard and his voice was ragged with fear as he whispered, "It will never stop...."  
  
The Vulcan pondered this answer for just a second before he raised an eyebrow at his science protege, "Then, Mr. Chekov, the only solution is to comply and end this...."  
  
Chekov was already shaking his head again, "Nyet! No way! No...."  
  
"Whoever 'they' are, they had the power to remove your heart and replace it with this one, apparently as a means of communication for some as yet unknown reason. The..."  
  
"Nyet!!" Chekov shouted more forcefully and this time several of his readings jumped.  
  
"Ensign..." the Captain began.  
  
"You don't understand! You don't know..." His eyes pleaded with his Captain and Kirk felt a stab at his own heart.  
"Then explain it to me."   
  
"If I...if I open myself to this...thing, heart, whatever, I have to.... The only way to open myself to it is to just let...everything in...all the rest of it comes along, all the shit I thought I'd left behind..."  
  
"You know you can't just run forever from..." McCoy began.  
  
"I know that! I'm not idiot! I've been through enough therapy to know all the goddamned sayings...'you can only go through, not around'...right, is that what you wanted to say...I know that. I just wanted to choose my time." He paused to collect himself and suddenly felt very weary. "What happened to...to her was...." his eyes teared again. He blew a breath out, "...really bad and....."   
  
"Familiar." McCoy finished for him. Chekov looked up at him and the doctor knew that some of what his patient feared was already happening to him. The dark eyes were filled with a hurt the young man hadn't allowed to the surface in a very long time.  
  
Pavel Chekov was on the verge of losing all control, he couldn't let that happen. He turned away from the three officers and sniffed, "Go away. Just go away." He turned onto his side and curled himself into a fetal position, burying his face in the pillow and they were already gone from his awareness as he plunged into his own private misery.   
  
It was that little dark room in his mind, both refuge and prison, so familiar, so easy, he would stay there, he could stay there, he had done it before, he could do it forever and ever and ever......  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"He told me what happened, Captain." Landon confirmed. "But, in the most...the way he told me, he could have been reading the contents of the navigation data base aloud. He wouldn't let me offer any kind of...comfort. He just said, 'It's not a big deal but'....or, 'It doesn't really matter but'.....or, the one he used most often, 'I'm over it now, but'...."  
  
Kirk looked to the others around the table, McCoy nodded, that all had sounded familiar to him. Even Uhura, Sulu and Scotty, who still didn't know specifically what Landon was referring to, were nodding. That Chekovian behaviour sounded familiar to them, too.   
  
Spock speculated to himself that no matter how long he lived, how long he served with human beings, worked with them, even cared about them, he would never understand them. He could only marvel at their ability to function in the face of such complex and entangled emotional forces. He had been caught once in a shakt'luk - a tornado-like storm common to Vulcan's southern continent. He was certain that was the only time in his life he understood what it might feel like to be fully human. He took a moment to indulge in a favorite McCoyism - he thanked his lucky stars.  
  
"Mr. Spock, any progress with the new sensor configurations?"  
  
"No, Captain. Severe ghosting and interference is distorting all readings well beyond filtering capabilities. The only frequencies free of the distortion are those that carried the transmission to the Enterprise. However, attempts to return communications using the same frequencies has met with failure."  
  
Kirk looked to Uhura, who nodded in agreement with the first officer, "We've tried every type of filter and gain on those frequencies, Captain, we can't get a signal to within a hundred thousand kilometres, sir."  
  
"I guess they don't want to hear from us."  
  
"I would say it's the laddie they're waitin' to hear from." Scotty put in.  
  
"Then, they might have a long wait." Sulu muttered, remembering a couple of dozen occasions where Pavel had shut him out, the first being after that first gravball game.  
  
"What would happen if he never....?" Uhura wondered aloud.  
  
She looked to McCoy, who looked up to find the rest of the group also looking to him, "What are you all lookin' at me for? I don't know...if you're askin' could he live with that heart, sure he could, it's strong, healthy. If you're askin' me would it stop whatever it's doin' to him, I have no idea about that. Then do we move on to a cloned heart, I don't know."  
  
"How was he this morning?" Kirk asked.  
  
McCoy snorted, "He's the stubbornist..." He looked across at Landon and noted how tired she looked and how frustrated, and thought pretty much the same expression was on his own face now. "He's not talking...to anybody, for any reason. I don't know how long he can keep this up. I guess I don't want to know the answer because I suspect it's a hell of a lot longer than the rest of us can take it."  
  
"Well, we can't just hang here forever....Starfleet is starting to make a noise. They're dispatching Science Vessel Yukon at 2200 hours ship time....they'll be here in 15 hours...at which time we are to depart for Starbase 7..."  
  
"You mean, leave...without...." Landon looked horrified. While the more senior officer's held their reactions in check, she could feel the disbelief and distress coming from them.  
  
Kirk said quietly, "It gets worse. At Starbase 7 we are to transfer Ensign Pavel Chekov to the custody of the Chief Medical Officer for Sector 7 and then make way for Proxima."  
  
"Oh, no." Sulu said, speaking for them all.  
  
"Their must be somethin' we kin do." Scotty insisted. "We've got 15 hours to figure somethin' out. We can't let the lad leave here without...." he found himself stopped by the bizzareness of the situation, then drew himself up and confronted it head on, "We canna let the lad leave here without his own heart!"  
  
"Scotty, we don't even know where it is...out there somewhere...perhaps." Kirk replied.  
  
"Captain! You're not givin' up!?" the excitable engineer was relieved when Jim Kirk gave him that look, that one that said, 'you know me better than that!' Scotty grinned, "Aye, we've just gotta figure out how to get the lad to find out what that thing wants to know and then we'll figure out how to get his own heart back before the Yukon turns up." Simple.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Damn it, laddie! Look at me when I'm talkin' to you!" Scotty exploded. He had never, not in all his years, in all his travels, not in any city or town, on any continent, nor any planet, or galaxy, not ever, never, ever, known anyone as bloody %$#@!! stubborn as this iron-willed slip of a kid!  
  
The Chief Engineer paced the sickbay for the tenth? twentieth? time. This, obviously, was getting nowhere except closer to permanently damaging their previously amicable relationship. Scott was beginning to worry that he'd already stepped in it good and proper when the object of his raging frustration actually spoke and stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"Do you know?" he asked quietly.  
  
Scott shook his head, knowing instantly what Chekov meant. "Whatever it is, lad...we've all got..."  
  
Chekov looked away from him again and Scotty signed, "You have to trust us, lad."  
  
"No I don't! I don't have to do anything! Go away!" Chekov turned away from him and went to that place again, the dark place where he couldn't see into the corners, where what he couldn't see couldn't hurt him.....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"We have orders to make for Starbase 7 in seven hours, when Yukon arrives." Kirk waited for a reaction from his young officer but got nothing in return. "Pavel, at Starbase 7 we are ordered to leave you in the custody of the Chief Medical Officer there and depart for Proxima without you." Nothing. "We don't want to do that. We don't want to leave here without getting your heart back, you know it's out there." Nothing. "And we don't want to leave you behind on Starbase 7, alone." Nothing. "Can you hear me?" Nothing. "Ensign, if you can hear me, I am giving you a direct order to acknowledge."  
  
"I can hear you." So quiet it was almost inaudible, but progress! Chekov turned and looked at his Captain for the first time and Kirk was struck by how terribly exhausted, and defeated, he looked. "Is the ship in any danger?" his voice had a hollow, empty sound.  
  
Kirk wondered warily where the question was leading before answering with a simple, "No." He studied his young officer's wasted face. Pavel Chekov's dark eyes had lost their spark, something inside had died, somewhere an essential chord had snapped. Kirk knew instantly what he was looking at. He was looking at someone dying. Maybe he wouldn't perish physically, but he was losing the battle on all other fronts and when the young man spoke again in his voice there was only resignation left, "It's all over, then."  
  
Kirk gripped his hand, "Nothing is over!" he hissed angrily, then couldn't stop himself from shaking him, "Stop this goddamned sulking! We're trying to help you!"   
  
Chekov blinked at him, "Why are you all...just leave me alone...just leave me on Starbase 7, leave me...."  
  
"No! Would you leave Uhura or Sulu alone? Would you leave Uhura on Starbase 7 alone?!." Kirk saw something move in Chekov's eyes and thought , 'Ah ha!' and knew he'd touched a nerve there he hadn't expected. It was her turn next anyway. A part of his pride as a Captain wanted him to be the one to turn Chekov around, but it was only a fleeting feeling and there wasn't time for foolish prides. "Ok, Chekov." he said quietly, looking into the ravaged face. He straightened and Chekov looked suddenly as though he had something he wanted to tell him. Kirk waited.  
  
"What you are asking." Chekov said quietly. "I can't do. If the ship was in danger...or.... "  
"If it was someone you cared about in trouble?" Chekov nodded and Kirk continued, "Pavel, for the rest of us, it IS someone we care about in trouble...."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Six hours. Yukon was six hours away and they were still light years away from moving their recalcitrant friend and giving 'them' what 'they' wanted. The Enterprise crew didn't know what was happening, but they knew that only Chekov could resolve this. Six hours.  
  
But, Kirk had hope that Uhura would be able to make some progress, especially after Kirk had seen Chekov's reaction to the idea of leaving her behind on Starbase 7. And, particularly after Landon had confided to him how much Pavel sought the Communication Officer's respect.  
  
Now, Nyota Uhura watched him, well, his back anyway, in silent reproach. She knew she was taking a chance taking this tactic, but six hours! He was so stubborn! He wouldn't even see Landon and he had that right but he couldn't keep his superior officers out. And, they had already tried cajoling him. They had tried sympathizing, they had tried being his friend, they had tried threats, they had tried pleading, they had tried....  
  
But, she also realized that he would just as soon wait it out in silence and she wasn't about to let him get away with that, either.  
  
"Do you know what my name means?" She waited. She knew he hadn't answered Scotty for a very long time or the Captain or Spock or Sulu either and so she waited. She didn't have to wait long.  
  
"No." he answered. 'Hmm', she thought, 'only twenty seconds. O.K.'  
  
"Freedom." she said proudly.   
  
He turned over and faced her and she kept the shock from her face but 'My God! What's happening to him!' she thought, covering, she hoped, her distress with a smile.   
  
"Freedom?" he asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's...nice...it is...freedom..." he smiled and almost looked like that smart-assed mischief maker they'd missed so badly up on the bridge these last few days.  
  
She smiled at him and held his gaze with her own until he looked away. She took his hand, "Pavel Chekov, you do know you have everyone worried sick, don't you?"  
  
He looked back at her, he couldn't be rude to her, he just couldn't but he couldn't do what they wanted and how could he tell her that? Tell her he was a coward...was he? Maybe she wouldn't think badly of him if he told her, just her, and maybe she would understand and she could tell the others and they would agree to leave him alone on Starbase 7 and the strangers there would never be able to get him out of that dark hiding place and it would finally be over....and suddenly, he couldn't keep the tears out of his eyes anymore and now he didn't care. She squeezed his hand and reached out with her other hand and as her fingertips took his tears away he said softly, "Did you know that Chekov wasn't the name I was born with?"  
  
She was surprised but only shook her head and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. She waited for him to continue, 'Come on, Pavel, come on....' she thought, willing him to just keep going.  
  
"It's my mother's name. Catherine Ivanova Chekov. I took my mother's name." A dam burst behind his eyes and filled them and spilled down his face but he seemed not to notice, he just kept his eyes locked on hers and knew that she would get him through this somehow, she would, she would..."When I was six...when I was six, I took my mother's name....Catherine...Cath..." He closed his eyes for a moment and pulled his hand out of hers and she was afraid that she'd lost him again.   
  
Suddenly, he bolted upright, terror on his face, "Oh, God! I...can feel her...she's dying, she's dying, she's so scared...." He buried his face in his hands and sobbed, "...she's so scared, she's so scared, I was so scared, I was so scared!"  
  
Uhura put her arms around him and he buried his face in her neck, "Uhura, make it stop! Make it stop! I can't do this! Please..."   
  
She held him tighter and rocked him, "It's okay, honey, it's okay, Pavel, you're safe, you're safe..."  
  
"I can hear him...she can hear...oh, God, he's right outside the door! Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...." His fist twisted the blankets as Uhura looked to McCoy at the door for an okay to continue, he nodded to her and she was somewhat disappointed, she hoped she was up to this...whatever it was. Pavel pulled away from her suddenly and curled up.   
  
"You listen to me, young man." she whispered urgently in his ear, "You're not going to lie there and just give in with me here! Get up!"  
  
He heard her. He did. Dimly, her words muffled their way through the dark cocoon he wrapped himself in...it was so warm here...so quiet and he didn't have to think or feel or see or do or be...he wanted everything to just stop. And it did. It just stopped. He would just stop. Here. Stop here and go no further. And go no further. And not be in pain anymore. And not be afraid anymore.....   
  
And not be......anymore.....  
  
McCoy and Chapel rushed into the room when the alarm went off...he was in full cardiac arrest.   
  
"PavPavelel....no no no no no..." he was annoyed when the voices began punching holes through the walls of his sanctuary. The voices were all jumbled together and shouting and he didn't want to listen anymore...he just wanted everything to stop. And it did. Again.  
  
"Goddamit!" McCoy bellowed when they again lost the revived heart beat.  
  
Pavel smiled to himself. Nobody could reach him in here. He always made sure of that. Nobody could get to him in here. He knew that. Nobody could hurt him in here. Nobody could find him. Nobody....."Hello, Pavel..."  
  
He could barely see who..... Oh, it was her. Too late for you. "Hello, Pavel..." Too late for you. I stopped you. You can't make me. Can't make me. Can't make me.  
  
"Hello, Pavel...my name is Kate...." Can't make me.... "Katherine...."  
  
Can't make...."Katherine?"  
  
She has green eyes. She has red hair. She has my heart in her hands. Look how it glows. "I brought it back to you....they want you to have it back...they are sorry for hurting you....you don't have to help me....they want you to have it back.....it will not be like last time, when they took it....it will not hurt....they want you to have it back...you don't have to help me....."  
  
Look at it, in her hands....there....it's just there....I can touch it, if I reach...why is she crying? "Why are you crying?" Why is she crying? Her tears are falling on my heart...into my heart...how pretty it is...I want it back, I want it back, I want it back, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry....................  
  
"Don't cry."  
  
"I'm not crying."  
  
He opened his eyes, Martha's shining face was hovering over him, "I'm not crying..." she said again and then thought, 'For the first time in an hour, I'm not crying.....'  
  
"Marth...?" His voice fell away as his eyes closed again.   
  
"Yes." She touched his face.  
  
"Wha'....happen...?" He managed to get his eyes open a little as Landon looked across the bed to Doctor McCoy.   
  
Pavel, regaining awareness with every passing second, turned and saw the doctor for the first time since awakening. "What's happened?" he asked, already knowing the answer, already feeling it inside him, warm and strong and steady. "Bozhe moi! Am I right? I have it back..." McCoy nodded at him. "Where is...where is Katherine's...."  
  
McCoy and Landon looked at each other across the bed. "Katherine?" McCoy asked.   
  
"That was her name, I saw her, I talked to her...she told me, she was the one who told me they wanted me to have it back and I didn't have to...." A look of infinite sadness settled on him, "....help her....." He looked past them and far away for a long, long time. They let him have his silence.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He was alone when he felt the ship go into warp. He turned on the viewer beside his bed just in time to see the cloud warp and disappear behind them. He always loved the feeling of the Enterprise going into warp....now, he hated it.  
  
He hated leaving her behind....but, wait, he wasn't. He knew as soon as he thought about leaving her that she was still with him, she was right there with him and would always be there and would always have that question....unanswered?   
  
Not a question anymore. No, he had been wrong before...it was a question for 'them', but not for her, for her it was....he felt panic bloom inside him as his chest tightened. He forced himself to breathe...God, how, he hated that!   
  
He didn't know if he could stand to face what had happened to her, what had happened to him. But, he knew beyond doubt that he could NOT live with this ache of something incomplete and unfinished that was coursing through his blood stream...something was wrong. She had been wronged. And he knew he could set it right. He just didn't know if he could survive it.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
"You won't die." Landon assured him. "You didn't die when you told me, right?" she said brightly. "Right?" she asked again and saw by the look on his face that he wasn't buying it.  
  
"Martha," he sighed and rolled his eyes. Damn it, he hadn't wanted to talk to her at all today but Chapel had let her in when he was asleep, well, nothing he could do about that now. "When I told you...I just told you, you know that...I did not let it....in. And I did not let it out...I did not let it touch me or you."  
  
"I know."  
  
"This is going to have to be different. " She nodded and he said, suddenly, "I don't want you there."  
  
"Wh...what?" She felt her heart thumping, something in his voice...  
  
"I do not know what is... I am not sure how this is going to happen, or who it is going to happen with..."   
  
"Who?"  
  
"Yes...I...have the..." he sighed, looking for the Standard word, a half dozen Russian words came to his mind and his tired brain wished, not for the first time today, that he could just speak Russian. "...the idea, no, the impression...no, damn, it is more than that. I KNOW that I have to do this with someone else. I have to...open the, the...communications channels..." He stopped as the thought, the hope, came to him. Suddenly and certainly he knew she would be perfect. Uhura. If she would do it.  
  
"What do you mean? Do you mean some kind of link? Like a Vulcan mind link?"  
  
He shook his head, "No, more like a....a heart link...." God! He wished he could ignore this damned thing...his heart, it was so clearly communicating with him and he didn't want to listen to what it was telling him. But it was so loud! He couldn't look at her.  
  
She felt tears well in her eyes as he looked away from her and she felt an ice cold blade slide slowly between her ribs. "Why can't I...." She didn't want to know, not really. She didn't want to hear him say what she knew he was going to say.   
  
She knew because she could feel it. She felt it before, right after he had awakened after he had his heart back...she felt the cold there and now he was looking at her and it was in his eyes, and, shit, now he's saying it....  
"I am so sorry...so sorry, but I can't lie anymore...it won't let me and I know what I feel, in my heart, is not love. I do care about you...and I do love you but I am not in love with you, I just really wanted to be... you are so smart, so beautiful, so funny and I loved the idea that someone like you could love me...but it's not right, Martha, you deserve..."  
  
"Don't give me that 'you deserve better than me crap'! It's not that easy, Pavel! I won't let you..you can't just spout a bunch of trite little, pat, sayings and think that's ok with me, it's not, it's definitely not ok. This is not ok! This is not ok!"   
  
Her shouting brought Chapel around the corner, but Landon ignored her, "After all we've been through...Pavel, no one ever treated me the way you did, you were...damn it! You were the first one who didn't treat me like a piece of glass! And after the Tien and what happened to you, I thought we really made a connection..."  
  
"We did, we did, I...' he had a brief flash back to that awful time, just months ago, when the Tien had imprisoned him and tortured him to death...except that McCoy had intervened and saved his life and it had all been so terrible and she had been there for him... "Martha, I will never forget what you did, how you helped me get through that but..."  
  
"Well, just say it!" Thinking, 'Why do I want to hear this again!'  
  
"I am not in love with you." He checked with his heart, listened to the signals he was getting from it and knew that what he was saying was right and true and knew also how much he wished it wasn't.  
  
"Just like that......you son of a bitch." He winced at the bitterness in her voice and then she was gone, blowing past Chapel. He looked up into Christine's eyes, they were the same blue as Martha's. He looked away again.  
  
Chapel came to his bedside and checked his readings silently and then laid a warm hand on his shoulder briefly before she left. He felt the radiance in his heart that her hand had transmitted to him, directly from her own heart, he knew. Her affection still glowed there inside him, comforting, loving, soothing, understanding, and especially, healing. He shook his head and wondered at the feelings that had come so alive within him...and wondered at what a dead and silent thing his heart had been before.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"It worries me, Pavel. It worries me." McCoy's Southern drawl, like Chekov's Russian accent, often became more pronounced when he was under stress or deliberately using his dialect to emphasize a point.  
"What is the worst that can happen?" Chekov asked, not entirely rhetorically.  
  
"I don't know! That's the point, I don't know what the worst case scenario might be...I don't know what you're trying to dig up...I don't know how bad it is...I don't know how it will affect you..."  
  
"I won't die." he echoed Landon's words and felt a stab of sadness, but no guilt. She hadn't spoken to him since he'd told her how he felt...or rather, didn't feel.  
  
But, the gentle questions from Sulu and Uhura about what had happened had been bothersome, again lighting that feeling inside of him that he was keeping something from them. But, then again, as Sulu had said, he didn't have to tell them everything. Hell, he didn't have to tell them anything if he didn't want to - it wouldn't change the friendship they felt for him. Everybody had secrets. 'Yes,' he had thought, 'but there are secrets and there are....secrets the size of asteroids....' Nevertheless, he felt relieved to know they didn't care if they never knew what it was he had kept from them for almost a year.  
  
"Did you hear what I said?" McCoy asked again. Chekov shook his head and the doctor rolled his eyes. Chekov laughed. Irritated, the doctor snapped, "What the hell is so funny!"  
  
"Nothing." Chekov replied mildly but couldn't keep the grin from his face, remembering the way the doctor had rolled his eyes. It was an expression the physician and the navigator had in common. "So, what did you say, Dr. McCoy?"   
  
"I said, are you sure it won't kill you?" McCoy asked seriously.  
  
"If the Tien did not kill me, I do not know how this would....but then, they did, didn't they? Kill me, I mean. But, then you stepped in and did not let me go ahead and die...." Chekov searched the doctor's eyes.  
  
They had covered this ground before. They had arrived at a truce. They were ok with what had happened and they had learned from it. McCoy had learned to treat Chekov more like an adult and less like a substitute for Joanna. Chekov had learned that not every situation came with a right answer.   
  
But, he saw in McCoy's eyes the fallout from that terrible day the doctor had been hurried into Chekov's cell and confronted with the kind of choice the Ensign knew he would likely face himself some day. On that day months ago, Chekov had chosen death and McCoy had chosen life. And he could see in the doctor's eyes now the suspicion that they were on opposite sides of that same fence again.  
  
"And now, you think I am doing the same thing...." he mused aloud.  
  
"What do you mean?" McCoy asked.  
"You think I might be choosing a self-destructive path, do you not?"  
  
"Not till you just brought it up." McCoy paced the room. "I don't even know what we're talking about here. You're gonna have to spell it out for, Pavel. How, exactly, do you propose to help this girl...Katherine?"  
  
"By accessing the cellular memories she left behind for me...that is her wish. She wants me to go there and see what happened to her and...do whatever has to be done."  
  
"The memories are there, as strong as they were when you had her heart?"  
  
"Yes. I am certain."  
  
"So am I. Her heart transmitted her memory to your cells with every single beat. What I don't understand is how you plan to access the memory...lots of people have recovered donor memory without all of this high drama or ..."  
  
"I am not 'lots of people', Dr. McCoy."  
  
"I know that, son." The doctor replied, daring Chekov to call him on the 'son' bit again. He didn't. Instead, the young man smiled at him.  
  
"I believe you do know. I did not understand before how...closed...I was. I thought I was an open person." He smiled and cast his eyes down "Certainly, I was often the loudest, the most talkative...I thought that was the same thing but these last few days I realize I've been...it is as though I could not see colours until now. I mean, it is as though I did not know colours existed. I thought black and white was all there was and I was satisfied with that. And it was like I was deaf, I couldn't hear my heart. It was screaming at me sometimes, like with Martha, that what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn't hear it. Is that understandable?" He looked up at McCoy again and was surprised at how intently the doctor was listening to him, as though he actually had something worthwhile to say.  
  
"Perfectly." The doctor pulled up the chair beside the bed, sat and leaned forward. "Now, I want you to consider something. What would happen if you did nothing? Just went about your business, went back to work...."  
  
Chekov decided he should at least let the doctor see he considered his words, so he did consider them for a moment and the swell of sadness and (where was this coming from?) outrage he felt made him dizzy. He closed his eyes and felt the doctor's hand on his arm. "I cannot...." he whispered.  
  
"They said you didn't have to help her...I mean she said..."  
  
Pavel shook his head, "It is not coming from them, or her...it is coming from me. Me. I cannot do nothing. I cannot." he opened his eyes.   
  
McCoy nodded, "Ok...what are we talking about? How do you plan to do this?"  
  
Chekov felt like he was a passenger in his own body somehow. No, not a passenger, it was what he had told McCoy before, he had never let himself see or hear or feel before. Now he heard a symphony and the musicians were all dressed in technicolour coats and he felt himself carried away by their music....   
  
"I am not sure. I only know that when I start...that once I start really...opening...it will happen...." He paused, trying to read what he was feeling, "I will know what to do when I need to know..." He smiled again, "That is all I know at the present."  
  
"Can we use hypnosis? I could hypnotize you in a dissociated state, you wouldn't have to experience...whatever this is...."  
  
But the Russian was already shaking his head, as soon as the word 'hypnosis' came out of the doctor's mouth, his heart said, 'no'. "Vulcan mind meld?" McCoy inquired. Chekov shook his head again.  
  
"Ok. What do you want to do first?"  
  
Pavel checked with his 'conductor' - "I need to talk to Uhura."  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Why couldn't he stop? Why couldn't he stop weeping? This sadness had overwhelmed him, swamped and capsized him and swept him into an endless black sea...he struggled on the surface for as long as he could until exhaustion foundered him and took him down and, as he slipped into the cold and the dark, the briny water poured in through his mouth and his nose, choking him....  
  
He gasped and jackknifed in the bed...his hand pressed his heaving chest as his lungs relaxed into rhythmic, easy breaths...he could breathe, he could...he kept trying to remember that, he kept trying to forget all the times when he was little....  
  
He tried to wipe at his once again wet eyes (he had cried oceans these last few days, drowned in his own tears, that's what the dream had been, he decided) and found his right hand in hers.  
  
"Is it time?" she asked tiredly.  
  
He squeezed her hand and shook his head. Two days they had been here, waiting, for what he wasn't sure. He just knew that she had to be here because he didn't know when it would happen. And so she had been here. For two days.  
  
"Thank you for doing this..."  
  
"You've already thanked me, honey. You don't need to keep doing it."  
  
He smiled at her, and gave her hand another squeeze. "What time is it?"  
  
"0430."  
  
"Bozhe moi, did you sleep!"  
  
"Yes, I slept. I'm fine." He looked at her dubiously, wondering what kind of sleep she got on a sickbay cot. Reading his expression, she insisted, "Really, I just woke up a few minutes ago...you were...dreaming, I guess..." She pulled her hand out of his and stretched and yawned. "Do you want some tea?" He nodded and watched her go to the replicator.   
  
She looked so beautiful in those colours, those rich golds and greens and browns and blacks of her robes. 'An Empress' he thought, and his eyes burned when his next thought was the name, 'Alexandra'...the last Empress of Russia and the doomed Romanov family and he saw them, dressed in their traveling finery, on that final walk - down those stairs - down into that dingy room beneath the stairs - down into personal oblivion and eternal legend...   
  
....and he saw her, Katherine, and her eyes were green and her hair was red and he was with her and ran beside her as she fled down that flight of stairs, her bare feet stealthy on the cold floor, her shawl wrapped tightly about her shoulders and she had been here before and felt this terror before and so had he....  
  
...not that way! That way is danger! Taiga! Come back here! Silly dog....his feet carried him across the marble floor of the Grande Promenade, the 'big hello hall' he called it, it was where they all came, all the people, hello, hello, hello, they said, in the hall, the big hello hall with the big chairs lined up on the sides and the fun arches and columns you could hide behind and run around and through and....Taiga!...not that way! He's working down there! No!!!  
  
He gasped, "No!!" and the terror spiked and fell away and a blue calm enveloped him and he floated on that sea while his breathing slowed and he was so warm and he opened his eyes and her arms were around him and he knew right then that it was going to be just fine, he could get through this, she would get him through this. He realized how heavily he was leaning on her but didn't think he could spare anything to pull away and he didn't want to anyway, he just wanted to stay there forever and the thought of going back into the dark was.....   
The tears spilled onto her arm and she stroked his forehead and whispered to him, "It's alright, honey, you'll be alright..."  
  
"I don't know if I can do this...I don't know...."  
  
"Do you have to do this, sugar?"  
  
"Da...yes...I have to..."  
  
"Then you can. I know you. If you feel you have to do this, then you will be able to do this."  
  
He pulled away from her to get a look at her face, his breathing was ragged, his face white and wet with the tears that seemingly would never stop (Lake Baikal in Siberia was the deepest lake on Earth...that was a fact but he thought now it must be wrong...the deepest lake in the universe must be the one in his eyes...).   
  
What he saw in her face was belief...in him...astonishing. But, he had just touched that terror and "I know it is just beginning and already..." She saw the fear in his eyes and her respect for him deepened in the light of his determination to continue.   
  
"What do you want me to do?" she asked quietly, wondering how to help him get through this. Was there something that triggered that last event, something she did or said, could she..."You didn't seem to be aware there for a while, it was like you didn't know where you were at all..."  
  
Chekov fixed her with a look that was both certain and terrified, "I knew exactly where I was...I was at home and I was with her, at the same time."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" She studied his face and knew what the answer was going to be. As he shook his head, she realized that this process might not require him to share anything of what he was going through with her. And that was okay, as long as she was sure that he was going to be able to get through it, close it and leave it behind when it was all over. A part of her was afraid that his natural reticence might prevent him from fully and thoroughly engaging in the experience and that if that was the case, he might be in danger of dragging around unresolved issues for years to come.  
  
"I'm sorry." he said quietly. "I don't feel...it's not necessary, I'm sorry, you must feel like you're wasting your time here but I...need you here." He looked at her and smiled shyly, "I could not do this if you were not here."  
  
She smiled back at him, "I'll do whatever you need me to do. If you want me to play checkers with you, if you want me to talk about myself, if you want me to sing, although after the birthday party maybe I should be asking you to si...what's wrong..."  
  
His breathing had started to labour again and he brought shaking hands up to his face, he breathed into his hands, "Oh, God....it's starting again...oh, no... oh, God...."  
  
He pulled his hands away from his face and bent his head down and put his hands behind his head, protecting himself....but it was too late....  
  
....the blows rained down from above...he had tried to stop her, "Taiga!" he had screamed at her in fury when she would not obey him, she had just chased that ball right into the studio...and he could hear it, he could hear that his father was working, the same song over and over and over and over until he got it the way he wanted it and you never, ever went down there when he was working, stupid dog! She was going to get him in trouble, he was afraid to go after her, she had run right into the studio at the end of the big hello hall and he had been running at full speed to catch her and now he was trying desperately to stop and then he heard the thunder of his father's fury and then he heard a shriek of bewildered and terrified pain and he knew it was her and he had to save her and he started running again and he ran right into that blackest, fiercest and most terribly familiar monster and it turned toward him and in it's hand was Taiga and he knew in an instant he could not help her and also knew, as someone does who understands such intimate violence, that he had to get himself out of there and in that moment also understood it was too late for him, too..... and he heard that song, Taiga it would be called, and people would come to love it and play it at weddings and weep over it's beauty and he heard it over and over and over and....  
  
...she heard it, that song, Taiga, and she knew that as long as it played she was alright, as long as it kept playing he was upstairs with his bottle and his bitter memories and she was okay, but, then it stopped and she held her breath and prayed for it to start once again but this time it didn't, it didn't, and she knew, with the certainty of someone with an intimate understanding of fear and violence that she had made a mistake, maybe a fatal mistake, she should have left the house but she didn't, she went down into that room beneath the stairs where she used to hide but he knew about that room and mostly he let her hide in there and he only tormented her by walking back and forth in front of the door while she held her breath on the other side and she could hold her breath for a really long time and then she could breathe so quietly he couldn't hear her and he would do that for a couple of hours and then wander up the stairs and that's what he usually did but she knew, she knew in her heart that it was not going to go that way tonight, her heart was pounding a warning to her, get out of here, get out of here, get out of here but it was too late, he was on the stairs, they creaked over her head one at a time and he wasn't walking the way he usually did, he was coming to do a job, he was coming for her and it was too late, he was outside the door and she was holding her breath but he wasn't playing that game tonight, he wasn't playing that game, and she knew it was over when the door disintegrated in front of her and he was in there with her and she turned in the tiny space to get away and a vice closed on her arm.....  
  
...his arm was caught, it had dropped Taiga and he stared at the little body on the floor and knew the quirky little spirit was gone from it, and he couldn't stop staring at it like it was something new in the house that he had never seen before and he forgot that it had his arm and then he remembered when it screamed at him that it was all his fault, he had killed his Taiga by not controlling her and letting her run all over and he had killed his Taiga and then he remembered he had to get out of there and he pulled and it got mad and jerked him off his feet and he regained his balance and stood and turned and tried to run but it still had his arm and then he heard a CRACK! and a white hot shock ran through him and suddenly he couldn't run, suddenly he was sliding onto the floor and then he was on his back and the world turned red and there was something hot all over him and the world was just red and then it started going kind of gray and he heard another noise and it was his mother and she was screaming and screaming and.....  
  
....she heard the screaming and realized it was coming from her and she was so surprised she was making such a noise and he couldn't stand it and he stood over her and put his huge hand over her mouth and pressed on her neck and now she couldn't make any noise and inside she was screaming and outside tears rolled out of her eyes because the last image that would be burned on them for all time was his terrible face and from deep inside she found the will to not let him rule this, her most personal moment, and so she moved her eyes, to her beloved books and the worlds held there and she wished they would take her, but she couldn't focus on just one and she was left with just wishing she could slip from this body struggling for air and she wished it would just stop trying so hard to live, she wished it would just stop. And, it did.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I have her picture, if you'd like to see it?" Kirk asked quietly.  
  
Chekov nodded and Kirk switched on the viewer beside the bed. Chekov gasped when he saw the pretty red headed child smiling out of the screen...his heart ached as his fingers traced lines on the promising young face...so familiar to him now, like a friend...like a friend known briefly and then gone forever....  
  
"Katherine O'Riordon, born in 2237 in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada. Mother died in 2240. She moved with her father to Starbase 6 in '45."  
  
"The year I was born..." Chekov said quietly.  
  
"She disappeared 16 years ago, when she was 14 years old, in '51."  
  
"The year my mother took me out of my father's house."  
  
"Her father, James, claimed that she simply never came home one day." Kirk informed him.  
  
"Fourteen years old..." His eyes focused on something far away, "He killed her and then he...he put her body in a shipping tube and he beamed her out into space."  
  
"Starbase 6 has already questioned James O'Riordon - he confessed, Pavel."   
  
It was what he had hoped to hear. It was what all his pain and terror had been about so why did he felt curiously empty? He accepted the victory but knew it was incomplete somehow.   
  
He couldn't stop looking at the shining face frozen on the viewer in front of him, "She just floated through space until 'they' found her..."   
  
"Yes, well, we heard from the Yukon. The cloud they are investigating is a typical oort cloud, no unusual background radiation, no sensor interference, no communications interference....perfectly normal." Kirk smiled when Chekov looked up from the face on the view screen. Chekov smiled back at him.  
"Starbase 6 said that it happened exactly the way you said it did, you were even right about what he was drinking....and the fact that he was listening to your father's music when he did it..." Kirk watched Chekov's face for a reaction, but the navigator remained impassive, although Kirk suspected it was more from exhaustion than reserve. "Can I ask you a question?" Chekov nodded, and Kirk asked, "Why did you keep 'Andreievich'? after you changed your name from Zhukov to Chekov?"  
  
Chekov grinned, "My mother found another 'Andre', when I was eight, a very nice man..." His grin widened and Kirk was delighted to see some of that old spark in his eyes, "...I used to call him the 'Anti-Andre'." Chekov laughed and Kirk laughed with him. "He is a very good and decent man and I love him very much and do not write to him nearly as often as I should."  
  
"Can I ask you another question?" Chekov smiled at his Captain like an indulgent parent and Kirk was a bit taken aback and realized that this was what Pavel had been wanting to avoid, the questions and questions... "I'm sorry, I..."  
  
"No, Captain. Go ahead, I don't mind."  
  
"I was just wondering if you ever saw him again?"  
  
"Andre?" Chekov asked, knowing full well that is what Kirk meant, but he waited for the Captain's affirmation before continuing. "No...I saw his funeral. I watched it from an apartment window on the Nevsky Prospekt in St. Petersburg and on the vid at the same time. It was a surreal experience...I saw them, and heard them, the noise was unbelievable, hundreds of thousands of them weeping and wailing for this man who had been a monster to me and I heard the commentators on the vid...'a tremendous loss to humanity'...astonishing. But you know the strangest part was to see him in the coffin...I was 19 when he died and I already looked so much like him, if I dyed my hair blonde and cut it..." He shook his head, "Bozhe moi, I could be his twin." He took a breath and looked up at Kirk, "Imagine living with a monster from the time you were born until you were six and then being taken out of his reach and for years thinking about him and then seeing him dead in his coffin and...it's you. The monster that terrified you when you were a kid is you, your face, the one you see in the mirror everyday..." He laughed, it was a dark sound, "Surreal, that is correct word, yes?"  
  
"Yes." Kirk agreed quietly.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sulu wondered exactly how to tell him. He walked slowly beside his helm partner, ready to catch him if he faltered. Chekov had been out of bed for the first time today and his walk was slow and careful, his body was still very weak but it felt good to be moving and it felt even better to see something other than the four sickbay walls.  
  
Sulu actually had two pieces of news and both of them were fairly significant. It never failed to amaze the helmsman, how quickly things could change on a starship. It reminded him, in his more contemplative moments, of the ever changing nature of the universe, even the walls they were passing at the present time were changing before their eyes, the atoms inside them zipping around at the speed of light while they slowly degenerated and someday these walls would not exist at all and he hoped he wasn't around to see that! And he needed to...  
  
"Sulu!" Chekov's shout brought him out of his reverie. He looked at the navigator, who looked back at him with bemused irritation, something only he could pull off in one expression, Sulu thought.  
  
"What?" Sulu answered.  
  
"I want to go back. I'm getting tired...already!"  
  
"Oh..ok, sure and hey, don't worry about it, you already look better today than you did yesterday and tomorrow you'll feel stronger and you'll be back on the bridge in no time and then we'll..."  
  
"Sulu!" Chekov stopped walking.  
  
"What?" Sulu answered, surprised.  
"What is it?"  
  
"What's what?"  
  
"What is it you don't want to tell me?"  
  
"What are you...."  
  
"When you don't want to say something you either babble or you don't say anything at all. You have been alternating between the two since we started out. So, what is it?"  
  
"Maybe we should go somewhere you could sit down."  
  
Chekov sighed and this time his expression was one of plain irritation, "Sulu, I'm getting more tired by the second, just say it, for chrissakes!"  
  
"Uhm...well, Martha is uhm, well, she...I guess she went to, after you and her, I guess she was upset I guess and...."  
  
"Christ! Just spit it out!"   
  
"Well, she went to Ronnie Bishop, you know, the Baptist Minister? And..."  
  
"Wait! There is a Baptist Minister on board named Ronnie...Bishop?"  
  
"Ya, so..."  
  
Chekov laughed, "That's funny! Don't you see?"  
  
"Uh, ya, I guess so...anyway...uh, they're uh...seeing each...other..."  
  
Chekov stared at him, "I've been replaced by a ships chaplain?" Sulu nodded and Chekov bit his lip, "Hmph...well, that should really cement my reputation." he laughed and Sulu laughed and was relieved he took it so well.   
  
Chekov started walking again, "That's good, I hope she's happy. She's a good person and..." he stopped when he realized Sulu wasn't walking with him. "Now what?"  
  
"There's more."  
  
"More like what? She's pregnant?"  
  
"No, no, not that! We've altered course for Starbase 6."  
  
'Well,' Chekov thought, 'At least he said that straight out.'   
  
"Pavel?"  
  
"I should have been sitting down for that one." he leaned against the wall and Sulu was beside him in an instant, looking apologetic, Chekov dismissed the unspoken apology with a wave, "It's all right. I'm just...why?"  
  
"Come on, I think we better talk about this one somewhere else."  
  
Chekov allowed himself to be led down the corridor, he wished for nothing other than to be back in that bed in sickbay that he had despised just minutes earlier, he felt so tired and he didn't even realize when Sulu stopped outside the door that he was standing in front of his own quarters.   
  
He entered the door code and it slid aside and he and Sulu entered the dark room. "Lights." he said and when they came up he saw that Martha had still not removed the personal effects she had there.  
  
Sulu pulled the chair from the desk for him but Chekov ignored it and lay down on the bed instead. Sulu looked at him, alarmed, "You want me to call sickbay?"  
  
"No, I'm fine, I'm just really tired..you might have to carry me back there."   
  
Sulu laughed and pulled the chair up beside the bed and took it himself. 'He looks like hell.' the helmsman thought, 'well, when you've been through hell, I guess that's what happens.'   
  
"Hikaru..."  
  
Sulu was startled, Chekov rarely called him by his first name, it was just that old military tradition, Sulu knew, still it sounded so odd to him that it didn't occur to him that maybe he should answer.  
  
"Just tell me what is happening. Why are we going to Starbase 6?" Chekov said and thought, 'And why isn't the Captain telling me this and why does that make me nervous?'  
  
"The Captain wanted you to know he thought maybe you'd like a friend to tell you this, in case you wanted to talk, but he's available any time you want to talk to him." Sulu wondered why Chekov was smiling at that but when he waited for an explanation he got none, so he decided to forge ahead. "Somebody at Starbase 6 has leaked the story of how this guy confessed to killing his daughter after her memories were recovered by another person to a couple of reporters, and they're waiting for us...for you...at Starbase 6. They want to interview you about what happened and...." Sulu paused and looked deeply into Chekov's eyes, "Pavel, the Captain told me to tell you... they don't know who you are?"  
  
Chekov felt a flare of anger at his Captain. He had revealed the secret in the message and Chekov wondered at Kirk's subterfuge, why would he have done that? It didn't seem like something Jim Kirk would do - something so manipulative and (the words came from a distant therapy session) so passive aggressive. Damn him!  
  
Sulu saw it on his face, the reaction the Captain had been afraid of, and Sulu thought maybe his infallible leader had fallen on his own face with this one, but maybe the situation was still salvageable.  
  
"Pavel, we, Uhura, Scotty, and I want you to know that you don't have to tell us anything...not ever, never. It makes no difference to us who you were...we care about who you are. You have to know that and understand it and believe it...we don't care if you never say another word about the past. We don't care. We love you. And that's all we need to know." Sulu swallowed around the lump in his throat and was about to crack a joke when he stopped himself. It was often too easy for him to skate through these vulnerable moments on his sense of humour. And he didn't want to do that now.  
  
He waited for Chekov to speak, noting the brightness of his eyes as he blinked back his own emotions. His voice when he finally spoke was soft and trembled with feeling, "Hikaru, call Uhura and Scotty and ask them to come here, please. I have something to tell you."  
  
~~~~  
  
  
1330 hrs: Harb Tanzer looked around Rec Room 2 with satisfaction. All was as ordered. Everything was ready. Landon had helped Chekov find suitable music, and, like the Corey Hart song he had sung for her in this room just over three weeks ago, the music had been found in her course files from 'Canadian Musical Influences of the Late Twentieth Century'. In particular, most of the music came from a singer/songwriter named Sarah McLachlan.  
  
The tables were draped in autumn colours of gold and yellow and bronze that matched the baskets of fall maple leaves at their centres.   
  
The guests from Starbase 6 and elsewhere huddled mostly together by themselves, in the midst of almost two hundred Enterprise personnel in full dress uniforms. The Enterprise crew present were deferential to the people who had personally known Kate O'Riordan and Harb sensed their gratitude for the dignity and respect these strangers were showing 'our Katie'.  
  
Along with their memories of a bright girl gone too soon they brought pieces of a life. On one table stood her figure skating trophies and medals. On another, a photo of a tiny girl bundled in winter layers standing splayed on the inside ankles of her white skates. They stood on a frozen lake, the girl and the beaming mother who propped her up under her arms, 'our Lorraine', an elderly woman said sadly.  
  
Harb approached the Captain as Kirk conversed quietly with Dr. McCoy. They turned to him and McCoy spoke, almost in a whisper, "It's nice Harb."  
  
Tanzer nodded, "Thank you. Did you read this?" He indicated a piece of parchment on the table closest to them, "Pavel told me her Aunt Rebecca said it was her favorite poem."  
  
Kirk looked at the beautiful and intricate printing on the page and recognized Sulu's calligraphy. He and McCoy read in silence...  
  
  
The Meeting  
  
He findeth not who seeks his own  
The soul is lost that's saved alone  
  
John. G. Whittier  
  
  
No one said anything. And no one said anything when Sulu and Scotty and Uhura joined McCoy and Kirk. There was no need.  
  
And then, the lights dimmed and Pavel Chekov stepped up onto the small stage as Lt. Nalini Singh sat in front of the synth and everyone took their seats and you could have heard a whisper as Chekov spoke and said simply, "This is for...our Katie."  
  
Nalini played and Pavel sang, his eyes were bright with emotion but his voice never faltered....  
  
Angel  
  
Spend all your time waiting for that second chance  
For a break that would make it okay  
There's always some reason to feel not good enough  
And it's hard at the end of the day  
I need some distraction  
Oh, beautiful release  
Memory seeps from my veins  
I may be empty and weightless and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight  
  
In the arms of the angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you feel  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find  
Some comfort here  
  
In the arms of the angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you feel  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find  
Some comfort here  
  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find  
Some comfort here  
  
  
  
  
  
END  
~~~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
